Indecision
by ComposerofSilence
Summary: Erik is left alone, only yearning for death. But after one last trip to the balcony, he uncovers hope that there is reason to go on. But how long can hope truly last without affirmation? A tale of confusion, metamorphosis, love, and Indecision. E/C
1. Back To The Balcony

**Hello, I'm trying something new for a change. I'm dedicating this to a good friend of mine: Mac, because she's helped me out of a lot of trouble lately. There is some serious Raoul bashing in this, so if you love Raoul, please go elsewhere, I can guarantee you will not like this phic. I myself do not hate Raoul, I actually sort of like him, and I know why Christine loved him and not Erik. PLEASE do not post reviews defending him; because I am not attacking him, it is just necessary for the story. For the rest of you E/C shippers please read and I hope you like it. Leroux based. I do not own Phantom of the Opera.**

**-Heir de Erik **

Erik paced about his home, agitated and miserable. He could think of nothing but Christine and he constantly replayed all that had happened in his mind.

Erik had had her. She should have been his, _would_ have been his! She had consented to marry him, she was practically his wife! He had saved the Daroga and the boy, gotten the Daroga to his home, and put the boy in the communard's passage. When he had returned, the most wonderful thing in the world had happened; Christine had let him kiss her. He had placed his cold, dead lips against her perfect forehead, and she had let him! It was too much. He had fallen at her feet and bathed them with his hot tears. "Poor, unhappy Erik!" she had said. He was merely an object of her pity, she did not love him. How could she? So he did the only thing he could have done; he let her go. He released the boy and showed Christine and her young man out of his house.

It had been three weeks since all this had happened. Erik now knew all that he had done wrong. He was vicious and unpredictable, unstable, frightening. He had scared away the woman he loved. If only she would come back to him, he would be the gentlest creature that ever lived.

But she was gone, away with the Viscount, soon to begin a life in the aristocracy all because he could not control himself in front of Christine.

Erik moaned as despair set its claws into his heart. He clutched his chest, feeling very much physically injured by his broken heart. He couldn't live like this for long, wishing for things that could never be. He had made up his mind; if he didn't die soon, he would take his life. He would lie down in his coffin with _Don Juan Triumphant_ and sleep for ever. This would have to be done in short order, for he felt that he could not live another day enduring this kind of pain. These had been the longest three weeks of his life for one reason; he had no music.

Before, Erik had always had his music. He had been hateful, joyous, despairing, lovely, and jealous, but he had always had the company of the melodies forming themselves in his mind, but no more. Since Christine had left, not one note had come to comfort him in his misery. He had pulled out pieces that he had previously written and played them, but it had been as if they were hollow. No longer did they have any meaning, for their source had been carved out.

Erik was completely alone, wallowing in his pain and sorrow. No, Erik would not torture himself any longer. It was time to sleep forever. But first, he had to see Christine one more time.

Erik donned his cloak and left his house, the chilly night of the city enveloping him as he stepped away from the Palais Garnier. He breathed in the cool air and the light breeze ruffled is cloak. With a sigh, he stepped into the shadows and made himself invisible.

Erik made his way through Paris, blending into the darkness and never making a noise. He knew where the Chagny manor was, and he climbed the drainpipe to stand on the balcony of a large room of the house. He was careful to stay out of sight, for he had been shot at the last time he had stood on this balcony. Fortunately, the boy had misfired and the bullet had grazed the shoulder of a stray cat which proceeded to dash away as he slid down the drainpipe. Besides, Erik did not have to worry about his golden eyes betraying him this time, for the room into which he looked was brightly lit. Certain he could not be seen; Erik looked in on the scene that was taking place behind the glass doors of the balcony.

As he expected, he saw Christine and the Viscount, as the siren had killed his brother, and the Viscount was to inherit his title. What he did not expect to see was that the two were having an argument, for they obviously were. Christine's eyebrows were knit together in a frown and her arms were crossed over her chest. The boy was gesturing wildly with his arms as he spoke. Erik could not hear what was being said, but neither of them was happy about it. Whatever the boy had been saying had obviously struck one of Christine's nerves, for she uncrossed her arms and straightened them out by her sides, he hands balled into fists. Her mouth moved quickly, and what she said obviously had great meaning. The boy lowered his arms, which had been raised in a gesture of exasperation, and set his jaw as he lifted his chin to glower at Christine.

Christine's expression had changed as well. Her eyebrows no longer met and her eyes searched the boy's face pleadingly. Her hands were now shaking and she held them in front of her stomach lightly clasped together. She looked down at her feet, apparently ashamed of what she had said. The boy's shoulders sagged and he turned away from Christine while shaking his head and rubbing his temples. Christine looked up and took a step toward him, then another and another until she stood just behind him. She lifted a hand and placed it on his back, just between his shoulders. The boy started as she touched him, and turned around sharply. Christine quickly pulled her hand back. They both seemed to relax as they saw one another. It had been as though they both expected a specter to appear before their eyes, but were pleasantly surprised to find out otherwise. Relieved, the two seemed much more at ease. The boy tucked a loose lock of Christine's golden hair behind her ear. They both seemed to regret what had been exchanged.

Erik watched with curiosity and sadness as the two of them argued, then seemingly made up. That could have been _him_ and Christine, but in his mind, Erik had never imagined himself arguing with Christine. Erik's dreaming was cut short as the boy opened the door that led out to the balcony. This would be hard to deal with. The boy and Christine had just walked out onto the balcony and were looking up at the stars. Erik was about to slip away when he heard the sound of Christine's voice.

"Raoul," she started, and then paused for a few seconds before continuing to speak. "You can't keep me from going."

"Christine," the boy sighed and looked at her. "I don't want you going, and that is final."

"I am not asking for permission," Christine kept her voice level. "I am going."

"I forbid you to go," the boy's voice rose.

"I don't answer to you!" Now there was silence between the two and they simply stared at each other.

"I promised," Christine whispered and looked away.

Erik finally realized what they had been arguing about. He was overjoyed that Christine felt obliged to keep her promise, but he had always known that the boy would keep her from coming back. However, Christine had only promised to return when he was dead…so why were they even having this discussion? Erik was answered by a newspaper lying, open to the obituaries, on a small outdoor table to his left. Printed on the newspaper were these words; _Erik is Dead._

_Oh Daroga_, Erik thought. _You are an idiot_.

Or was he? Erik really had no way of knowing whether he was alive or dead. For all he knew, he could have died as soon as Christine left, which would explain many things. But how could that possibly be? It was all nonsense, and Erik refused to dwell on the subject. He would deal with the Daroga later, but for now he was anxious to see the argument progress.

"Why do you even want to go back there Christine?" the boy implored, bewildered. "If you recall, he nearly killed…"

"You," Christine cut him off. "He nearly killed _you,_ Raoul. Besides, he is dead, how could I worry about my own safety?"

They were silent for a while, the boy looking at Christine and Christine looking up to the heavens.

"Christine," the boy spoke in a gentle tone. "You said it yourself. He is dead! He can no longer threaten you and hold you to your word! You are out of his control! You are absolutely free!"

"I'm not asking you to come with me," Christine spoke up. "But believe you me, I am going back. There is nothing you can do to stop me."

"We shall see," the boy rose to his full height and strode back into the room, leaving Christine on the balcony.

Christine put both of her hands on the railing of the balcony and gripped it until her knuckles turned white. The wind blew her hair and it whipped around like a gold banner. She sighed and looked up at the night sky, her blue eyes reflecting the moon's light.

"I'm coming Erik," she whispered. 'I promise."

With that, she turned and went back into the room and shut the glass door behind her. A quick glance told Erik that the boy was no longer in the room. Forsaking his hiding place, he stood before the glass door and looked in on Christine. She was sitting on a small stool in front of her vanity, looking at something small in her hands. Erik strained to see what rested in her delicate hands. Finally, he caught a glimpse of it; it was the gold ring he had given to her. She held it in her left hand, and then would take it in the right hand, constantly placing it from one hand into the other. Apparently tired of this repetitive practice, she tucked the ring safely into a small drawer and then locked it.

Erik Gazed in longingly and placed the fingertips of his left hand on the glass, but did not press hard enough to leave marks where they had been. He would leave no evidence of his being there. He sighed and smiled to himself. Christine was coming back! He had a reason to live and breathe again, and as he thought of this, a soft melody filled his head. The music was back, and Christine was soon to return. They were, after all, one and the same; Christine was Erik's music, and one could surely not exist without the other. In high spirits, Erik climbed down from the balcony and merrily returned to the Palais Garnier, his heart soaring and a song forming all the while.

**Thank you for reading. Please review. I don't mean shower me with compliments, really. I'm bloody tired of 'constructive criticism'. Please tell me if I am doing something that you don't like, and I don't care how rudely you put it, just let me know. There will be more to this story soon, and I hope to please all of you readers. **

**Your servant,**

**-H.E.**


	2. Reconstruction

**You know, I really don't feel obliged to apologize for taking so long to update. And there shall no longer be Raoul bashing because one very anonymous reviewer made me feel guilty, and I wrote myself into a big hole that swallowed me up and sent me spiraling into the abyss that is writers block, thank you so very much for that, anonymous reviewer. I have only been seeing two roads that I can go down in this story and I don't like either one, so I have to find a third route somehow. Oh well, here is the second chapter, hope it does better than the first.**

**I do not own in any way POTO**

A week passed without any sign of Christine.

The first and second days that she did not appear had little to no affect on Erik's mood. He was elated, and practically skipped about his home on the lake's shore. She would come, but perhaps not so soon. The boy was likely keeping a close watch on her because of their recent argument. It would be pointless to hope that she would return within two days or even a week. So Erik remained patient. The third and fourth days, he began to work on the beautiful song that had formed in his mind over the past few days. It was, to put it in simple terms, pretty, light with a melody that danced around and brought a smile to Erik's face. But there was room for improvement, and Erik played it on his organ, occasionally omitting a note, or adding one or extending a note's value, just generally perfecting the piece.

The fifth and sixth days, Erik was in a panic because his house was not ready for Christine's arrival. He was in a frenzy of cleaning, dashing about his house, dusting, scrubbing or polishing something or other. When the house was in pristine condition, Erik sighed and noted how plain the house was. He decided that shopping was necessary. The next day, he went out and bought a bouquet of bright, multicolored flowers. He also purchased a pair of gloves that would fit Christine, and an elegant dress that would match the gloves. He returned to his house and placed the dress and gloves on the dress in the Louis Philippe room. He contented himself for the rest of the day by imagining Christine in the dress and gloves.

Erik was hardly concerned when the week had passed and Christine had not yet visited him. He did, however, worry about what he was to do when she _did _arrive. He had quite a bit to make up for, and he tried to decide how best to apologize. Erik ruled out begging and pleading almost immediately. Reflecting upon when he had done it in the past, he realized that his pleading had probably been one of the things that had driven her away from him. He spent a whole day deciding how and how _not_ to behave around her. He still needed to smooth out the rough edges, but he had a good idea of how he should act when she was around. He tried his best to recall she had reacted to each of his gestures toward her. He seemed to group them all into one generalization; fear. Every way he acted toward her had frightened her, and he understood why she had left him for the Viscount. _He_ was stable and reliable, where as Erik was unpredictable and hardly sane. He would need to impress Christine in the short amount of time that they had together, so he felt that a total reconstruction of his behavior was required. He spent the remaining six days in that week altering the way he processed his emotions.

Two weeks and no sign of Christine.

On the first day of the third week, Erik tripped over the corner of a rug. He fell forward and hit his head on the arm of a chair. A stream of curses flowed from his mouth and he threw the chair that had caused his pain across the room. A thought came to him; what if he got angry and lost his temper when Christine was with him? He would scare her away again! He could not afford to lose her again, so he devoted the vast majority of his time to finding a way to relieve his anger _without_ erupting into a fury. For the whole week he worked on this, and he eventually settled on a very effective method of easing his stress and reducing his anger before it could mount into a rage. He had discovered two small stones on the shore of the lake. So small in fact, that they could both fit in the palm of his hand at once. They were as smooth as glass and of a very entrancing color, so he put them into the pocket of his coat and continued to walk along the shore, racking his brain in search of a way to control his anger. He had distractedly put his hand into his coat pocket and begun fiddle with the pebbles. He found himself distracted by the way they felt against his skin and how they sounded when he tapped them together. He had discovered his method of keeping calm.

Three weeks had passed with no sign of Christine.

Erik was now worried. The flowers he had bought had begun to lose their color and wilt. The gloves and dress had remained untouched in the Louis Philippe bedroom. Erik's food mood had diminished into hopeful anxiety, and he constantly took out his pocket watch to check the time, simply because it was something to do. A though had crossed Erik's mind; he had not received his salary from the managers. He hurriedly wrote a note to them, stating that he would receive twice the normal amount, seeing as he had returned his last two payments. He also excused them for forgetting about the payment, seeing as they must have been busy with other matters dealing with the recent trouble in the Opera, and that he was willing to grant them a pardon if they did as the note instructed. Erik left out the part about himself forgetting about his salary. After all, without him, the managers would lose control of everything.

Erik delivered his note to the managers' office and took to wandering about the empty halls and secret passageways of the Palais Garnier. He listened to the gossiping of the ballet rats and scoffed at their ignorance. They spoke of how the Opera Ghost had stolen some girl or others hair pin or ribbon or powder puff or anything of that nature. Erik smiled to himself, and was sorely tempted to show them what the Opera Ghost _really_ did, and that he was not the petty thief they imagined him to be. But he suddenly remembered that he was expecting Christine. How could he have forgotten? He practically flew down the hallways and passages of the Opera House, taking the fastest and shortest route back to the house by the lake.

But it was useless; Christine was not there and she had never been there in his absence. He sighed and paced about his home, his hand going to his coat pocket and rapping the pebbles, which he always kept in his right coat pocket, together. Throughout the week Erik worked on his music and even attended a new production that the managers put on. He critiqued the performance, but he was so distracted during the performance that he could not even recall its name.

Five weeks and Christine had still not come.

Now, Erik was nervous and even angry. Was she coming at all? Had he gotten his hopes up and for nothing? Or worse, was Christine lost? Had she come into the cellars, attempting to enter his house and lost her way? Could she be hurt? Was she even alive?

These thoughts assaulted Erik's mind and he took immediate action. He made several rounds of the cellars, checking every corner and behind every set piece. But to no avail, Christine was not there. It seemed as though she never _had_ been. He made another decision; he would go to the Chagny manor and see for himself if Christine was alright. He slipped out of the Palais Garnier unnoticed in the darkness and made the short journey to the balcony that had become ever so familiar to him. He ascended the drainpipe and perched on the railing for a moment, looking into the always lit bedroom. Christine was asleep on the bed, though still wearing a fine dress. He watched her sleep, her chest rising and falling with every breath she took. Her golden hair seemed to be radiating light.

Erik allowed himself the pleasure of watching Christine sleep. He wished the moment would last all of eternity. But it was not to be, for the door opened and Christine stirred, lifting her precious head to look to the door. It was the Viscount. He leaned halfway into the room and said something that Erik could not hear. Christine shook her head and beckoned the boy into her room. He came in, shutting the door behind him as Christine straightened her dress and came to sit on the edge of the bed. The boy took a seat beside her, gently draping his arm over her shoulders. Christine rested her head against his chest and drew closer to him. The boy said something, turning his head and raising his eyebrows looking for Christine's reaction. She smiled and nodded, her shoulders shaking with soft laughter. Why couldn't she react that way when _Erik_ spoke to her? The boy smiled in return and pulled her in a little closer. They sat in that manner, just enjoying each other's company, faint smiles upon their faces as they gazed out into the night sky.

Erik felt physically ill for how much emotional pain he was in. Christine was not coming back! She had never intended to! She was never going to return, regardless of whether he was alive or dead. Erik blamed the boy, for it could only be _him_ that had deterred her. He had talked her out of keeping her promise, and he would pay for that.

Erik sought a more suitable place to hide, for the boy and Christine were making their way out onto the balcony. Satisfied with the dark corner behind a decorative plant, he hid and watched the couple exit the room and come to stand on the balcony. The boy's arm was wrapped around Christine's waist and her hand rested on top of his. They stood in that manner for a while and Erik watched them, fury building up inside his chest. He wished to simply execute the boy then and there. It would be much easier to win Christine over if the Viscount were dead but then again, maybe not if he was the one that had killed him.

Suddenly, an out of breath servant came up to the boy and whispered something in his ear. The boy's expression grew solemn, and he kissed Christine on the hand before excusing himself, following the servant back inside. Christine was content to look up at the crescent moon and wait for the boy's return. Erik thought that this may be his only opportunity to confront Christine.

He silently came from behind the plant and stood just behind her. He breathed in the sweet perfume of her hair, and he knew that she was unaware of his presence. Unfortunately, it could not remain this way.

"Christine," he spoke in a level tone, not overly loud but not soft either.

The young woman spun around quickly, an expression of absolute confusion on her features. This quickly changed to one of fear, and all the color left her face. Erik knew she was about to scream.

"Be still, child," he said, placing his gloved hand over her mouth. "Please do not scream."

He cautiously removed his hand from her mouth, and was relieved when she did not scream.

"But…" Christine began. "You're dead!"

"Don't be silly, Christine," Erik snapped. "Do I look dead to you?"

Christine opened her mouth as if she were about to speak, then shut it and looked warily up at Erik. He wished those words hadn't escaped his lips.

"Why didn't you come back, Christine?" Erik could not stop his heart from speaking with his mouth. "You promised! You promised me…"

He turned his back to her and fought off the stinging tears of rage and sorrow that pricked at his eyes. It was ridiculous that one girl could do this to him.

"Erik," Christine spoke meekly, as if afraid. "I had full intentions of coming back, but…"

"But what?" Erik cut her off, spinning around to face her, his voice a deathly quiet whisper. "You had to stay here and hold hands with your fiancé, eh? Yes, I see! Much more important than keeping a promise to a dead man! I could do nothing to make you keep it, so you don't! I see now!"

Erik let out a single sob and turned away from her once again. He hadn't meant to attack her like this, but his heart had taken up lodging in his mouth, and he had no control over it. He was going to lose her again.

"Raoul kept me here!" she spoke up defiantly. "I was going to come and fulfill my word, which wasn't even necessary because you are clearly not dead, but he cares for me and does not want me in harms way, not that you would harm me. He was afraid and didn't leave me out of his sight unless it was absolutely needed. Then we had to plan for the wedding, and that consumed most of my time, and there will not be a wedding at all if I cannot find a solution to _one problem_!"

It seemed as though Christine was relaying all of her troubles to him and he was taken aback. Tears ran down her cheeks and she shook with fury. Could she possibly be mad at him so quickly?

"Are you angry with me Christine?" Erik asked tentatively.

"What?" her head snapped up and she seemed to be immersed in thought. "Oh…ah…no, no, of course not, I am angry in general. You see, I do not have anyone to…"

She stopped speaking and looked with wide eyes and a brilliant smile up at Erik. He was eager for her to continue and made it known by two jerks of his head.

"Oh, Erik, this is wonderful!" she nearly hopped up and down in delight. Erik loved to see her like this and could only guess at what was making her so exceedingly happy.

"What?" he asked, anxious to hear what she had to say. "What's wonderful?"

"Erik," she started once again. "Would you give me away at my wedding?"

**Well, there it is, please review and thank you for reading, I know it was slow, but the coming chapters will be much better. I once again say this is Dedicated to my friend Mac, and thank you to all that have reviewed, you have really helped me along with my writing and I hope you liked this chapter. It nearly killed me to write it, so if any of you are experiencing trauma, I'm there.**

**Thank you again,**

**- H.E.**


	3. Regrets

**Thanks to all of you that reviewed, subscribed favorited and the like. I am sorry for some confusion that the last chapter brought out in some people and I hope that this chapter clears some of it up. I would like to personally thank LeAngedeMusique for reviewing and bringing to light some of the very confusing aspects of my phic. I think I covered all of them in this new chapter and I am very sorry for making things so difficult to understand. Thank you again for reading the last two chapters and I think that you will all understand a lot more when this chapter is read by all of you.**

**I do not own POTO**

Christine felt the weight of what she had just said come crashing down on her like a falling boulder. How could she have been so stupid? This was the man who had pledged his undying love to her time and time again, and here she was asking him to give her away at her wedding! He wanted to marry her, not give her away to his rival! Christine felt very insensitive and foolish to have said something so selfish. However, the past few months had been very trying for her, and sometimes she was so focused on the problems she was facing that she forgot where she was and who she was talking to. Now was one of those times, and the result of her distractedness would be catastrophic.

"Erik, I…" she started, but could not continue. Her words had taken their toll and she knew that nothing she could say, no excuse that she could come up with could possibly heal the wound that she had inflicted upon him.

Erik had no words for the feelings he was experiencing. It felt as though he were falling. Yes, it was a falling sensation in the pit of his stomach, and he felt as though he would fall forever. He could not comprehend what Christine had said to him. Rather, he could understand what she had said, but could not understand why she had said it. She _knew _how he felt for her!He had made a point of telling her so several times! But what had she just asked him? Certainly not to marry her! No, it was quite the opposite! She wanted him to give her away to that boy on their wedding day! It was cruel, and he did not think Christine capable of doing such a thing.

So Erik laughed. Erik laughed at the absurdity of what was happening. His world had been turned upside down and he did not have any control over it. He laughed at the request and how silly it would be to answer her. He laughed so he would not cry in front of Christine. He laughed to keep his anger at bay. He laughed to release his anger. He laughed, and the laughter was exhausting. It relayed all of his emotions and kept him from doing the things he desired to do.

But as hard as he tried to keep laughing, the laughter turned into tears, and he was soon in fitful sobs during which he also laughed, trying to put up a bold front. He was at a loss for what to do, and he continued to laugh and cry, jut to keep from having to answer her. But it could only last so long.

Christine was horribly confused to say the least. Erik had been laughing, an eerie, demented, insane laugh. It filled the night air and surrounded Christine, frightening her. Who knew what he would do now? He had clearly lost his cool at her inquiry, and the worst was surely about to come, but no, for he began to weep, doubling over with his hands on his knees to remain steady, half laughing and half crying. Christine felt guilty for causing this reaction, and she knew she had been the cause of it. Words were useless, but she had to satisfy some instinctive need to provide him with some small comfort.

"Erik I am a fool, please stop crying," she begged, knowing full well that it was of no use to try and make up for her mistake. "I didn't think about what I was saying, and I did not think about whom I was saying it to."

Erik could not collect himself enough to respond. He was content to keep laughing and crying, even if a stitch was forming in his side. He didn't care, he was thinking. How could he deny his Christine what she wanted, no matter how much it hurt him? He made up his mind, but his laughter faded away at the sadness it brought him to even think of such a thing. Now he was simply crying. The falling sensation faded away as reality sank in and a painful bruise served as his heart. He felt gravity take hold on him again, and he resolved to dry his tears and be mature about this. The boy had won, he had lost, that was all there was to it. With a few coughs, Erik stood back up, though with slumped shoulders and back, and looked at Christine. It took all his power to resist the urge to stroke her hair and face. He had to put his eyes elsewhere in order to do what was necessary.

"When are you to be wed?" Erik choked, fighting back the fresh tears that threatened to pour out of his eyes.

Christine's jaw dropped and she gazed in bewilderment at the man that stood before her. Was he really going to do it? This was lunatic! Perhaps he had really and truly lost his mind after all.

"Erik," Christine warily started. "You need to sit down."

"No," Erik shook his head. "Now answer my question."

"The eleventh of February," she answered immediately due to his serious tone.

"Where?" he asked flatly. "What time?"

"At the Palais Garnier, at three in the afternoon," she answered sheepishly.

"I see," Erik answered. "I shall be there."

How ironic this all was! He would be there regardless of the wedding, but now he was attending the wedding and participating in it! Oh the things he did for her!

"I will look forward to seeing you my dear," Erik managed to say before crossing to the other side of the balcony and sliding down the drainpipe.

Christine watched as he departed, shocked that he would actually do such a thing. He had come and gone very quickly, and it was all with relatively no trouble. Usually it would have been Erik that proposed something ridiculous, but now it had been her. But there was yet another difference; he had agreed! He had agreed to do it, and it was probably the hardest thing he would ever have to do. He had not given Christine room to refuse him, and he was going to do it, simply because it was what she wanted.

Christine felt truly awful. She had been selfish, asked him to do something that would likely kill him, and he had told her he would do it. He had even asked her where and when the wedding would take place; giving her no doubt that he would come and do his duty at the wedding. Christine felt like she was committing an unforgivable sin.

Erik must truly love her to be able to do anything that she wished him to. He would likely cut out his heart if it would make her happy and not even care that it would leave him dead. Even after she had repeatedly wronged him he still felt this way for her. But he had tried to kill Raoul, he had kidnapped her. Still, he had only done this because he loved her so much. Thinking on it, that was really his only crime; he loved her too much and he felt that he couldn't live without her. She could not understand how any person could love in this way, but it was possible, for Erik loved her in that way.

"What's wrong?" she heard Raoul's voice from behind and turned around to see him coming from the bedroom. "You don't look well."

Christine realized that she must have looked a bit shaken from her recent encounter with Erik and she hurried to find an excuse.

"Oh, it's nothing." she waved a hand. "It's just a little bit chilly out here, that's all."

"Well here," he took off the coat he was wearing and wrapped it around Christine's small frame. "Is that better?"

"Yes, thank you" Christine nodded, savoring the smell and the warmth of his clothing.

"Don't worry Christine," his soothing voice sounded in her ear. "We'll have all this worked out soon enough and we'll go away, just as we intended."

Christine nodded, listening to what he said, but not really hearing it. Her thoughts were distant and jumbled; she wasn't really able to tune in enough to give him a verbal answer.

"What are you thinking of?" Raoul asked her.

"The wedding," Christine lied, but he did not question her.

"Ah, I see," he sighed. "We will get it all worked out before we even need to worry."

"Actually," Christine mused. "I think I know someone who will give me away. He won't really mind."

Christine winced internally at her last words. Erik did mind, and it would likely be causing him pain to just think of it. Christine wondered what he was doing at this very moment.

Little did she know Erik had not gone back to the Opera House. He stood beneath the balcony and had been unable to move from that spot, so overwhelmed he was by what had just taken place. He was well hidden, and did not fear being seen by anyone. His heart felt leaden in his chest and each beat sent pain coursing through every fiber of his being. How could he possibly be doing this? He was practically going to gift wrap Christine and hand her over to that boy! He didn't know how he was going to do it! But he had to, for Christine's sake he had to. It was the least he could do after all he had put them through. He couldn't help but respect the boy in some small way, for there had to be something about him that attracted Christine so much. If only _he _had that something!

He heard the conversation between Christine and the boy and felt immeasurable pain each time they spoke. The clear, crystalline tones of Christine's voice and the rich sound of the boy's voice made him feel incredibly lonely. The boy's voice could not compare to Erik's but the accompaniment of _her_ voice would make any voice sound wonderful. He wished it were his own voice mingling with hers.

He could not bear to hear their voices any more and slowly began the walk that would take him back to the house by the lake. His heart seemed to actually add weight, and he found it difficult to take a single step. But he eventually made it back to the Opera House and took the longest possible route back to his house.

Upon arriving at the lake, he stared at its glassy surface and allowed his mind to wander. It would be so simple just to fall into the water and all this would be over, no more hurt, no more anything. Just nothingness for the rest of eternity, what a welcoming thought! But he had promised Christine, and he _would_ keep his promise! With a heavy and mournful sigh, he looked to where his boat was usually docked. However, to his great confusion and anger, the boat was not there, but docked on the other side of the lake. Someone had been here in his absence!

The Persian had been watching the house by the lake for some weeks. He had realized his error in assuming the monster was dead almost as soon as he had posted the obituary. But now he stood in the house by the lake and stood, wondering where Erik could have gone. He had been tempted to follow him, but realized that he would have been discovered. He then made the decision that he would go into the monsters house while he was away. He would go in, investigate, and then leave. Things had been going according to plan and he was about to row back across the lake. That was when he heard an angry cry that could only belong to Erik. He had been immediately concerned and called out to the man.

"Erik!" he called out, as loud as his voice could be. "It is I, the Daroga!"

"Erik may kill the Daroga if he is not careful!" the voice called back. "Now bring back my boat! Or would you rather me_ swim_ across the lake?"

Erik was infuriated, but not as angry as he would have been if it had been someone else. What was he doing in his house? The Daroga emerged from the door that Erik had hidden so well, hurrying over to where he had tied the boat. He rowed across the lake to where Erik stood and got out of the boat. Erik tried his best to look intimidating but failed miserably.

The Persian noticed the diminished air of this man who was once so bold and frightening. He took advantage of the moment of weakness to assert himself.

"Erik, what is wrong?" he asked. "You are not yourself today."

"No," Erik sighed. "According to you I am dead."

The Persian felt very ridiculous. How did he always know?

"Yes, well I was obviously mistaken," the Persian countered his courage building. "Now what is wrong? I know you too well than to think you are not upset."

"Ah, Daroga," Erik started, shaking his head. "I, apparently, am going to be a part of Christine Daae's wedding."

The Persian was utterly confused and could not speak.

"Now, if you don't mind," Erik stepped into his boat. "I will return to my house and you will leave unscathed."

Erik rowed back to the opposite shore and entered his house again. He was vaguely aware of the Daroga saying something, but he was not listening. His music was gone again, except he had to _give_ it away this time.

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**Well, there it is. Hope you liked it, please review. Thanks for reading.**

**Hope it clears things up a little.**

**H.E.**


	4. Confrontation

**I would like to point out once more that this phic is completely Leroux based. If you have not read this version, you will not understand some of the more crucial points and aspects of this story. Please do not send me 'I don't understand' reviews unless you have read the book and I have simply butchered something. Thanks to all of you who have reviewed and stayed with the story. Things are going to get better soon and everything will work out. I know that things have been on the 'Poor Erik' side lately. But all wounds are healed with time.**

**I do not own POTO**

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** The Persian watched as Erik rowed slowly back across the lake and entered his house. It seemed as though the masked man carried a heavy burden, for his shoulders were slumped and his steps were slow and labored. What was it that he had said? He was going to be a part of Christine Daae's _wedding_? It was absolutely lunatic! And Erik had not killed him for intruding on his home! This poor man had likely lost every thread of his soul to this girl, and now he was attending her wedding! He needed a reason for this, and he intended to find one.

The Persian exited the Opera House and set out for the Chagny manor, bound and determined to find out what had been exchanged between Christine and Erik. He arrived at the entrance to the house and rapped upon the door. A servant appeared in a matter of a few seconds, asking how he could be of assistance.

"Yes, thank you," the Persian answered. "I have the need to speak to Viscount Raoul de Chagny and Christine Daae immediately."

"Yes, I will relay your message," the servant answered before turning on his heels and shutting the door.

The Persian shifted his weight to one leg. He needed to find out the truth, and this was likely the only way he was going to get it. He did not dare approach the miserable man beneath the Opera House, for he had already tried his patience enough. But the Viscount and Christine could know what had occurred and tell him what he needed to know. Rather Christine could. Actually, the Viscount likely knew nothing of what had happened. He would have to be left out of the conversation somehow; perhaps he would understand that he needed to speak to Christine privately.

His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening to reveal the faces of the Viscount and Christine. They wore expressions of surprise, for they had obviously not been expecting him. Why would they be? They had likely assumed that he would be gone from their lives, just as Erik would be gone from their lives.

"Good evening, sir," the Viscount started, adopting a tone of hospitality. "How can we help you? Please come inside!"

The Persian entered the manor and looked directly at the Viscount, not wanting to waste time with small talk.

"I wish to speak with Christine privately please," he said quickly. "It is of the utmost importance."

The Viscount's eyes glanced over to Christine, then back to the Persian. He knew what the topic of their conversation would be, and he did not have any interest in being a part of it.

"Certainly," the Viscount nodded, gesturing up the staircase. "Would you like to use Christine's room?"

The Persian was momentarily surprised at the young man's willingness to let them speak without him. But he did not question him.

"Any room will do as long as we cannot be overheard," the Persian accepted.

"I will order my servants to stay out of that area and I will remain down here," the young man assured him. "Will you be alright, Christine?"

She nodded, looking up at the boy with a reassuring smile on her face. She started up the stairs and the Persian followed at a distance. The Viscount kept his word and remained at the bottom of the steps, his eyes following them up the stairs.

Christine led him into a room with a bed, a vanity and a wardrobe. The room was brightly lit, and it almost hurt his eyes to go into it. There were glass doors that led out to a balcony and curtains that could cover them if there was need.

"How may I be of assistance, sir?" the young girl spoke, her voice wary, as though she dreaded hearing the answer.

"What has occurred between you and_ him_ recently?" he did not avoid the question.

"I do not know what you mean," she tried to deny what had obviously happened.

"Christine," he sighed. "I do not know whether or not you spoke to him this evening. However, he left his house, and when he returned he was in the very worst depression I have ever seen in any human being. Something happened, and I know for a fact that only _you_ could inspire such emotions in him."

A small sob betrayed her.

"What is it?" he immediately questioned. "What happened?"

"I am a fool," she stated simply. "I asked him to do something that will likely kill him. I'm surprised he didn't kill _me_ for asking!"

"Christine!" the Persian exclaimed. "What would you dare ask that would make that man, that man that loves you so much, want to kill you?"

"I was deluded and unfocused," she shook her head, obviously ashamed. "I asked him to give me away at my wedding, because it is obvious that my father cannot. He has been the closest thing to a guardian and I thought it would be fitting. It took a moment to remember that he loved me, and that what I was asking would hurt him."

"Indeed it did," the Persian mumbled under his breath. He thought the girl would never forget that Erik loved her after the drastic measures he had taken to make her his.

"Don't I know it!" she cried out. "You would have thought he had lost his mind if you had seen him! He laughed, and then cried, oh it was awful!"

"You realize that he must love you more than anything to do this for you?" the Persian shook his head. "He would rather be deprived of his talents in music than give you away to the Viscount."

"I do," her expression became confused. "But why? Why does he love me like this? I can't think of any human being that loves me like he does…"

Her voice trailed off and her eyes became distant.

"What did he tell you?" she asked him before he could speak again.

"Hardly anything, only that he would be participating in your wedding," the Persian informed her. "But it was more in the way he behaved. He is usually so…frightening, but he was unable to be that way, though he did try. He told me to leave, as simply as that. He did not even touch me! I was certain to meet my end if I was discovered!"

"What were you doing?" she inquired.

"Nothing of importance," he waved his hand. "But I was quite shocked and thought that he must have spoken to you to suddenly be involved in your wedding."

"So you came here," she concluded. "I cannot believe this! How could I have been so selfish? I can only think of myself! All he can think of is _me_ and _my_ happiness. He truly does love me!"

The Persian was at a loss for what to say, and let her go on. He knew that the man did love her, but was she really just now realizing it?

"Come now," he almost chuckled. "You've known he loved you all along!"

"He _told_ me he loved me," she corrected. "But I never truly believed it until now. He was just so frightening, and I don't mean his face. How could someone so frightening have the potential to love? Obsession was a possibility, or that he simply adored my voice, but _love_? Never! But now I know, and I don't know how I could have doubted it!"

"What will you do now, Christine?" he looked at her curiously.

"What _can_ I do?" she threw her hands up in a gesture of hopelessness. "I believe I have put myself in quite a predicament. I don't know how to get myself out of this!"

"I don't know what to say," the Persian rubbed the back of his neck. "But he is quite upset."

Yes, Erik was quite upset. He could not bring himself to do anything of productiveness. He had entered his home, gone into the Louis Philippe bedroom, sat in a chair and hadn't moved since. He stared at the dress and gloves that Christine would never wear and tried to remember why he had thought for even a second that she could ever love a person such as him. If you could call him a person. He hardly breathed, taking only the amount of oxygen that he needed. Breathing had become painful, as had everything. He was in Hell. No, Hell could not compare to this. His thoughts roamed to places they had never been before. Why did he love at all? No one had ever loved _him_. Perhaps he did not know any better. Perhaps it was just human nature for people to want things that they can never have.

Still, he loved her and he had no reason. Love was something that Erik couldn't explain. Did he even want to? He didn't want to dwell on such things. He was used to being in control of everything, but lately nothing had been in control. Love had driven him insane, or at least more so. He did not doubt that he loved her, for nothing could have this effect on him. He wanted nothing more than for Christine to love him, and he had no idea why!

In this state, Erik fell into a fitful sleep, unable to do anything else.

At the Chagny manor, Christine sat alone in her room. Raoul had come in as soon as the Persian had left, but she had asked to be alone for the rest of the night. She was very distracted, and did not want to fight to concentrate on any one topic. She was confused by all that had occurred that night. How could so much happen in just one night? It was too much to take in. One moment something would seem to make sense, and then something would happen to change that! But the thing that confused her the most was the thing that should have been the most plain and simple.

Erik loved her.

This made no sense! She had done nothing to cause him to love her and yet he did. She did not deserve the love of a genius; she was a common girl from the Opera, she had nothing but the ability to sing. She didn't even have a father! She had Mama Valerius, but other than that, she had no wealth or anything to make her deserve such love from such a brilliant man. He had claimed to love her, but actions do indeed speak louder than words, and his action had spoken the loudest of all!

She was likely the luckiest woman alive, and she had cast aside the only thing that would give her that title; Erik. She felt a pit forming in her stomach and desperately tried to shove it away. There was no turning back now. She had made her choice. After all, she loved Raoul! But then again, did she really love him? If what Erik felt toward her was love, then she _clearly_ did not love Raoul! She felt a strong emotional attachment to him, no doubt. But was it _love_? Was she about to marry a man with whom she was not in love? Her father would surely have approved of Raoul. Was that the only reason she thought she loved Raoul? Was he just an earthly reminder of her father, and she had stayed with him so as not to be out of her area of comfort? She was comforted by the knowledge that her father had liked Raoul, and the memories of their childhoods spent together were what made her think that she loved him. Oh! She did not know what love was! It seemed to be a torture method, designed to destroy people! Or perhaps it was a sign that you were attempting to love the person you were not meant to be with?

It was all too confusing for Christine, and she decided that a good night's sleep would help her organize her thoughts. It was probable that she would not acquire any amount of quality rest at all, but it was better than trying to sort it out at the present. Resolved to go to bed either way, Christine put on her nightclothes, turned off the gas lamp and closed her eyes, hoping tomorrow would be a better day.

Erik still sat in the chair in the Louis Philippe bedroom. He was awake now, finding sleep pointless. And he still stared at the dress and gloves. He did not deserve Christine. Falling in love had been a punishment for all his crimes, and what a punishment it had been! He would fall in love with the most perfect of creatures, and he had actually been surprised when she did not return his love. He was determined to have what he wanted, and he had fought to win her over. But the battle had been lost and the war was over. The Viscount had won, and he had never really been in the fight at all! It had been a war with himself and his love, and he had lost. Perhaps all of his existence had not been worth the effort.

Erik comforted himself with the thought that he would have no binds to hold him to the earth as soon as he handed Christine over to the Viscount. Christine would be happy, and he satisfied himself with the knowledge that his last earthly act would be for the woman he loved. He would give her the gift she had always wanted from him; freedom. He would release her as one releases a caged bird, and he, too, would be released and free. Erik smiled to himself, despite the pain that coursed through his limbs and body. He had truly experienced everything in life! Good and bad, his life was complete, and after the wedding, there would be no point in prolonging his stay on the earth.

Erik only thought of how happy he would be making Christine. Surely that would sustain him until he had to free her at last.

**Thank you all for reading and reviewing. Things are about to pick up the pace, so hold your horses for a little while longer!**

**-H.E.**


	5. The Wedding

**Hey, I know it's been a while and I'm sorry for that. I'm not even sure it's very good, but frankly I'm sick of working on this chapter and I want to move on with the story, so I'm just putting this up as a final product. I'd like to dedicate this to MacKenzie as always and I'd like to give special thanks to Erika again for helping me to fine tune this chapter. She was the one who let me vent to her and rant endlessly about fanfiction (yeah, so what? I have nothing better to talk about!) and helping me with the process. I hope you guys like it, and if you dont please tell me, because I'll take this off if it is no good and rewrite the chapter, though it will be the same content, only written differently and I wont change anything that I put into it. So there will be less surprise if I rewrite it, but hey, whatever. SO here's the new chapter! I do not own Phantom of the Opera.**

**-H.E.**

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_February Eleventh, Two in the afternoon_

Erik fiddled with his bowtie and smoothed the faint creases in his tuxedo coat. He had never meant to appear so publicly as this, and he would be just beside the center of attention for a little while. Therefore, he needed to look his best so that Christine would look good, and also to look good for Christine. However much this was hurting him, he did love her, and he wanted her to be happy on her wedding day. She was likely uncomfortable with all the aristocratic bodies in the audience, for Erik felt that there would be many, and she would probably feel as though she was performing again. How terrible it must be for her. What was supposed to be the happiest day of her life was going to feel like a performance to her. Erik felt the need to make her as comfortable as possible for this event, and she needed to see a familiar face, or mask, in the crowd.

He was wearing his finest mask, indeed the mask he had made so that nobody would look twice at him if he were to walk in the street. Yes, he could pass as a normal person walking among normal people, attending a wedding as normal people do. Participating in a wedding as normal people do. Erik sighed, the familiar pain in his chest making itself known again. He had become accustomed to it, but pain was pain, and it still hurt.

"Erik?" the voice of the Daroga called from across te lake. He had been invited to the wedding by Christine and the Viscount, and Erik had decided it best to appear with the Daroga at his side if only for a moment. He felt very human, needing security. The Daroga was often sneaking about his house anyhow, and he thought it only reasonable to ask him to meet him for the wedding, as they would both be attending.

"I am here," Erik announced, as though it were unknown. "Do come in, Daroga."

Erik was well aware that the Daroga knew how to operate his trapdoors. He had taught him how to do it. It was very annoying at times, but in this very special and rare situation, it was very convenient that the Daroga could let himself in. Erik heard the trapdoor open and was aware of the man walking towards him.

"Good afternoon, Erik," the Daroga dipped his head in greeting.

"Good afternoon, Daroga," Erik nodded in return.

A silence passed that was very odd for the both of them. This was the first time that they had met peacefully in a very long time.

"How are you feeling?" the Persian dared to speak. He knew this was all incredibly difficult for the masked man, no matter how well he concealed it.

Erik blinked. He did not know how to respond to such a question. Nobody had ever been concerned about his feelings before, and he had never had to answer questions regarding them.

"I do not know," he answered truthfully. "I admit that I was...unprepared to do this before. But now I feel I can proceed."

The Persian nodded. It was very much like Erik to find a solution to whatever problem he faced. He was a very strong individual in that area. Indeed he was a strong individual in most every area. But he had been inexperienced in the ways of love, and it had been his demise. He was glad to feel the way he did for Erik. No matter how monsterous a man Erik was, he was still a man, and every man needed a companion.

"Daroga?" Erik asked, his voice flustered and timid all at once. "Do I look...how do I...is there anything..."

The Persian watched and listened as Erik struggled to find words to voice his question. He constantly adjusted his bowtie or brushed non-existant dust off his shoulders. A smile played at the corners of the Persians lips.

"Erik," he spoke reasuringly, hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder. "You look fit for a wedding."

Erik looked at the Daroga. He had never felt as though he'd ever had a friend in the world. But if he ever had, it had been the Daroga. He had saved his life, and he was here now, even after all the threats and harm he had done. When all this was over, he would miss the Daroga.

"Thank you, Daroga," Erik sighed. The Daroga made a move to remove his hand from Erik's shoulder, but Erik held it firmly in place.

The Persian did not protest. Erik needed him for this. He gently squeezed the thin shoulder beneath his hand, lending all the support he could to Erik. He smiled slightly, trying to make Erik understand that he would never be alone.

"Come along," the Persian reluctantly ended the moment, taking his hand away from Erik's shoulder. " We must not be late."

Erik nodded and turned toward the door to his home, nerves entering his core. This was surely not happening, he was never nervous! It was really insignificant, but it irked him nonetheless. Shaking his head he left his house and began the short journey from the cellars.

Above the cellars, Christine Daae was preparing to be wed. She stood in her old dressing room, allowing women of differing ages to fawn over her and help in her preperations. She shook visibly, she was so overcome with nerves. She had wanted a small, private ceremony, just with her and Raoul. However, once word had spread about their engagement and wedding, the whole aristocratic community was sure to attend. She might not have been so anxious if her thoughts would have left her alone. She could not help but think that she was making a mistake in doing this. Ever since Erik had agreed to give her away, she had been unable to think of anything but his feelings for her, and how much she was hurting him. This had made her unsure of her own feelings for Raoul. She knew that she loved him, but _how_ did she love him? As a brother, as a friend? Did she only love him because he knew her father? These were familiar thoughts that ran through her mind. She thought they would fade away as her wedding approached, but it seemed to Christine that they had only been made stronger.

Her thoughts wandered again to Erik. She wondered what he would be wearing, or if he would wear what he always wore. Would there be the same look in his eyes that she had always seen, the intensity in his gaze? Or would he be numb to the whole thing, showing no emotion, giving no indication of what was going on inside of him? She prayed fervently that he would be there when the time came. That he would not abandon her. She felt so alone in this situation, she needed him to be there. He had to come.

Christine snapped out of these toughts. She should be thinking of Raoul, her husband to be. There was an odd surge in her stomach at the words Raoul and Husband used together, as though she had made a grammatical error. Maybe this was a sign. Maybe Raoul was not who she was meant to be with. How horrible it would be to spend her life with a man she did not belong with. She definitely did not belong with him. She should have listened to the people who protested against their engagement. She was a common girl from the Opera, he was le Viscount de Chagny. It was just a childhood romance that neither one of them were willing to let go of. Christine thought all of these things, but pushed them away. She had commited to this, and she was not going to pull out now. It was likely just her nerves. This happened to everybody.

"Alright," an older woman adressed Christine. "You look wonderful, dearie. It's time to get you married."

Christine smiled at the word and a blush spread across her face. An image of Erik appeared in her mind. How would he think she looked? She quickly shook her head to rid the image from her mind. How would Raoul think she looked? But really she did not have a thought for what Raoul would think. Her mind could not stray from Erik.

She allowed herself to be escorted into the lobby of the Opera House. She did not look for Raoul, he would be on the stage, waiting as the groom was supposed to. But she did look all around the room for Erik.

Erik stood in a corner of the lobby, avoiding conversation. He had no desire to mingle with these people, and they were wary of him. The Daroga remained close, but was a bit more open with the various guests of the wedding. Just as Erik had suspected, aristocrats filled the theatre, awaiting the beggining of the wedding. He shook his head, pitying Christine. He reached into his coat pocket and removed his pocket watch to check the time. It read two forty-five. Now all the people in the lobby were people involved in the wedding. Ballet rats who had been selected as bridesmaids, a few others who would be in the procession, but Erik did not care. He only looked for Christine. It was certainly not the reunion Erik wanted, but seeing Christine would be worth all of this.

He scanned the room once again and gasped. Christine had entered the room.

Erik felt the familiar leap in his chest at seeing her. She looked absolutely stunning. Her hair flowed like a golden waterfall over her shoulders, though some of it had been pinned up in ornate clips and jewelry. She wore a white dress with sleeves that left her forearms bare, and exposed her collarbones. The dress fit her well, and it gently plumed out at her waist, making for an elegant, swanlike appearance. She wore no other jewelry than that in her hair, but she did not need adornments to make her look simply gorgeous. Eik felt his heartrate accelerate. He had to go to her.

Christine searched the room for the person she most wanted to see. But she could not see Erik anywhere. Her heart sank. He was not going to come. It would hurt him too much. Christine berated herself for expecting so much of him. She hated herself for even asking him. It had just gotten her hopes up and roused feelings she had never felt before. Feelings that she could have done without. She resigned herself to having to walk down the aisle alone.

Erik was captivated by Christine. He was filled with a childish delight at seeing her. It no longer mattered that she was about to marry the Viscount, for the moment she was his, for one could not give away something one did not posess. But Christine was not a posession. She was a human being. The most beautiful, talented, good hearted girl in the world. Erik felt his heart surge. He felt dizzy with happiness. He stood behind Christine now, and lightly touched her shoulder.

Christine turned around sharply and could not keep back the expression of joy that spread across her features. It was Erik. She knew it was. However, she could hardly tell he was masked, he had constructed the mask so well. He looked as normal as any other man. It was the immediate feeling that had emerged within her as she saw his tall, broad shouldered figure standing over her. That was how she knew who he was. She smiled up at him, making it obvious that she was happy to see him.

"Hello, Erik," she spoke softly. "I'm so glad you came."

"Christine," he shook his head and chuckled. "I would never break a promise to you."

Christine felt guilt crawl into her stomach. Her head sank and she studied the floor. She felt Erik's finger under her chin as he lifted her head back up. She looked into his golden eyes and she saw that they _had_ changed. They were as intense as they had ever been, but there was a glint in them that there had'nt been before. A light that had always been shaded.

"You look beautiful, Christine," he whispered. His hand was still under her chin, and his face was inches from her own. He realized this and pulled away, removing his hand from her skin. She was dissapointed, but did her best to appear happy.

"You look quite dashing yourself," she returned the compliment. It was not a lie. He wore a very nice tuxedo, a bowtie, and polished black shoes. It was not so different from what she had seen him wear before, but it made all the difference in the world to Christine. Perhaps she was just so happy to see him, and it was just her mind that was different. Either way, she did think Erik looked very nice.

"It dosent matter how _I_ look," he laughed. Christine had never heard him laugh out of humor before. It was a beautiful sound, much like his voice. "All eyes are going to be on the bride."

Christine felt the nerves rush back into her stomach. Being with Erik again had made her forget her troubles. But now she recalled why he was here. Her heart sank and her eyes moved to the floor once again. Tears pricked at her eyes.

"Christine!" Erik placed a hand on her cheek. "Please do not cry. This is a happy day for you! If I am ruining it, please tell me and I will remove myself. Please do not cry."

"No!" Christine gripped Erik's forearm. "Don't leave me! I won't cry! Please don't go!"

"Alright," he shushed her, trying to be comforting. "Look, Christine. I am here. I am going nowhere. I am here for you, Christine."

Christine nodded and released her hold on Erik's arm. She trembled, but was put at ease when she looked into Erik's eyes once more. They held all the care in the world, and she could get lost in them. Right now they spoke to her, letting her know that all would be well and that he would never leave when she needed him.

Erik blinked and the spell was broken. He reached up and wiped a stray tear off of Christine's cheek.

There was a sudden flurry of motion throughout the lobby as a wedding march began to play. Erik and Christine took their place in the procession and the people ahead of them began making their way into the theatre. Erik hooked his arm and Christine rested her hand on his forearm. They both emotionally prepared to take the march down the aisle.

Erik drew himself up to his full height and looked down at Christine. She looked up at him, her eyes deep blue lakes, and he was drowning in them. He was the happiest man alive right now. Nothing could ruin it.

Christine allowed herself to melt into Erik's eyes. They warmed her to her core, and she wanted to spend eternity in this bliss. No! This was her wedding! She was being married to Raoul! She could not feel this way about Erik!

The time came for Christine and Erik to take their slow, rythmic steps down to the stage. Christine felt as though she were being led by a rope to her death, and it took every ounce of her will to move one foot. Erik helped her along, she was undoubtedly nervous about the publicity. She did not deserve this in the least, and he would help her to get through it.

The walk was nearly unbearable for Christine. She saw Raoul smiling at her on the stage. She felt Erik's arm beneath her hand. Did she love Raoul? How could she not love him? Yes, she loved him. But what sort of love? Why hadn't she thought this through?

They came closer to the stage.

_Why does Erik love me? Do I love him? No! I love Raoul! Do I? Yes, but how much? It is far too innocent to be true love. I love him as a brother or close friend. But it's too late for that now, I must marry him. Do I think that because he was my childhood friend? Will I spend my whole life never getting out of this safe shell? _Thoughts swarmed in Christines mind as she and Erik moved closer to the stage.

Christine's grip was vicelike on Erik's arm. He patted her hand with his to try and provide support.

Christine felt her heart flutter as she felt Erik's hand on her own. This could not be happening!

They were now on the stage, and Christine now faced Erik.

Erik looked down at Christine. He took her delicate hands in his and held them to his chest.

Christine's heart pounded in her chest. She felt Erik's heart beat beneath his chest, as he was holding her hands to it. No! She could not let herself feel this way!

Erik lowered his own and Christines hands, presenting them to the awaiting Viscount. With a single nod of silent approval, Erik left the stage. He had played his part.

Christine's eyes followed Erik as he descended the temporary staircase that rose up to the stage. She watched as he took his seat next to the Persian on the second row. Now she felt truly and utterly alone. She would have to fight this battle herself.

The bishop began the ceremony, and Christine forced herself to look at Raoul. The man before her was an honest man, a good man, and had been a good companion to her. He was a good natured person, and he had no ill thought of anyone that Christine knew of, with the exception of Erik. But was she truly in love with him? Did she feel anything beyond a wonderful friendship with this man? She looked into his eyes, searching for something that was just not there. She was about to marry a man that she did not love. She did not truly love this man, and yet she was about to be united with him until death. Christine was horrified.

Erik watched Christine's face. She looked puzzled and frightened. Erik longed to embrace her and tell her that she had nothing to fear. But this was her wedding, and she was marrying the Viscount. Now she would be happy, and Erik would be the one that gave her this happiness.

Christine racked her brain for a solution, but came up with nothing. She prayed that Erik had a trick up his sleeve to get her out of this. But the wedding proceeded with no sign of interruption. Christine felt the eyes of the witnesses on her as the bishop spoke. Her mouth went dry and she had difficulty taking in air.

"Do you, Viscount Raoul de Chagny, take this woman, Christine Daae, to be your lawfully wedded wife?" the bishop asked.

"I do." Raoul stated, smiling at Christine. He squeezed her hands and she tried to smile back.

Erik watched in confusion as Christine uncertainly smiled at the Viscount.

Christine felt as though her heart would burst from her chest at any given moment. She hoped beyond hope that Erik would deliver her from this horrible situation. But no, he remained in his seat, watching the wedding along with everyone else.

"And do you, Christine Daae, take this man, Viscount Raoul de Chagny, to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the bishop turned to her.

Christine did not answer immediately as Raoul had. She felt the glaring of her audience, as though they had seen this performance before, and they were eagerly awaiting their star to say the lines that would bring the happy ending of the play. Christine looked to Erik, who nodded once more. But she could see through his actions into his heart, and he was in pain. She hated herself for inspiring such pain in him. She looked back at Raoul and desperately searched for something,_ anything_ in him that would make her love him truly and deeply. But it was not there.

She faced Raoul and uttered the two words that would change her world.

"I...can't."


	6. Feelings

**Hello, I have posted another chapter, as you can see. Thank you to all who reviewed, and I hope this chapter is to your liking. I am very busy these days and I havent had a whole lot of time to just sit down and write, but summer is coming up and I will have alot of updates then! Once again, this is for MacKenzie, for keeping me sane enough to survive. I dont have much else to say, so here's the new chapter!**

**I do not own POTO**

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Surely all of Paris heard the gasps of shock and astonishment that came from within the Palais Garnier.

Viscount Raoul de Chagny, however, heard nothing. He saw nothing. He understood nothing. He was in a state of shock, and nothing made sense. What had she said? She could not have said no! It was impossible. They were in love, and they were getting married. But she had said no! He could not untangle his thoughts, and he did not see that Christine was nowhere to be found.

As soon as she had uttered those two words, Christine had fled the stage. She had gone up and up, all the way to the roof, where no one could find her. She felt sick, as though she had been poisoned by her own words. Why was this happening to her? She had done nothing in her life to deserve this! Hadnt the death of her father been enough to punish her for all of her sins? But she had to do what she did, or else she would have made the single most terrible choice in her life. She would not bind herself to a man she was not fully in love with, and that meant that she could not marry Raoul. Why did she have to do such a horrid thing to such a good man? Tears flowed freely down Christine's face and she wept bitterly.

Meanwhile, Erik stood, shocked, among the frenzied aristocrats. Most everyone was crowded around the Viscount, offering pity and consoling him. It seemed as though the Viscount didnt know what was happening, as though he were in a daze. Erik could not have been happier. Christine had said no! She was not going to wed the Viscount! She was not leaving him! Erik could not move. He was in a different state of shock. He was overcome with happiness, and he had not ever been so happy in his life. It was too much to take in at once. Erik suddenly felt the urge to run, to jump, to laugh, to display his happiness. But mostly he wanted to go to Christine. She had run off the stage, and Erik had to find her. Erik was the picture of composure as he left the theatre from where he had entered.

He immediately went to Christine's dressing room. As had multiple people from her audience. They stood in a crowd around the door to Christines dressing room, shaking their heads and muttering to one another. Erik looked past the assembled aristocrats and to the door to her dressing room. It was open, and Christine was not inside. Seeing no more reason to be there, Erik turned on his heel and made his way back to the stage. He knew exactly where Christine had gone.

Christine stood, looking out over the city. A warm breeze swept across her face, ruffling her dress and hair. Tears streaked her face, but she no longer cried. She had done what was necessary. There was no going back, and it was behind her. She was not ready to be married. It was almost a releif to not be married. She was free, unbound, she could be Christine Daae. She was her own person, and she was very happy as such. Marriage was permanent, and she vowed not to marry anyone until she was prepared to make such a commitment. She also promised herself not to put herself in any situations like this one. She would have feelings only for her betrothed, no one else. She would not put anyone else or herself through this again.

Erik stood on the roof, quite a way off from Christine. He admired the way her hair reflected the sun's rays and how it rippled in the wind. He longed to run his fingers through it. He longed to give her everything, everything she could ever want or would ever need. But was that what _she_ wanted? What did she want exactly? Why _had_ she suddenly changed her mind about marrying the Viscount? Perhaps it had nothing to do with Erik at all. Perhaps she was just not prepared to do such a sacred thing in front of an audience. Perhaps she had no thought at all for Erik, and had done it for her own reasons. Erik wanted desperately to know what was going on inside her head, to know what she was feeling. But he could not, and he would have to act based on his own judgement. He emotionally braced himself for whatever would happen next, and started toward Christine.

Christine lifted a hand to her face and wiped away the wetness on her cheeks. She sniffed and blinked, keeping any stray tears inside her eyes. She took a shuddering breath to calm herself. She felt egxausted, and she could tell she was shaking all over. There was a feeling like a hole in the pit of her stomach, a void. She wished it would grow and devour her from the inside out. She knew what a horrible person she was, and guilt was building inside of her. But she would have been more horrible if she had lied to Raoul, to everyone. She tried to convince herself that she was in the right, but she could not. Tears threatened at the corners of her eyes again and she blinked furiously to try to hold them back. Suddenly, Christine felt something touch her shoulder very lightly, and she turned to see who it was. It was Erik.

Erik felt adrenaline course throughout his body. He was so near to her. He was touching her. He was breathing the same air that she was. He was looking into her tear brimmed eyes. He wanted to pull her in, to reassure her, to let her know that he would never stop loving her. But he could not. He pulled his hand away from her shoulder to try and calm the sensation within him, the desire. It did not help, only succeeding in making him crave contact with her again. He tried to focus on what he would say to her, how he would make all of her pain go away. But he was still aware of his own feelings, and it was maddening. He gazed deeply into Christines eyes. He dove into the deep blue lakes and lost himself. Nothing existed when he was lost in her eyes, not even his feelings.

Christine looked into the golden eyes that were locked on hers. She silently pleaded for forgivness, searched for it, prayed that he would grant it. She conveyed every emotion she was feeling through her eyes, hoping that he could somehow accept that she had made a mistake, and that she regretted it wholeheartedly. He did not speak, he did not touch her. The only thing that signified his presence at all was his powerful gaze. Christine was captivated by his eyes almost as much as she was captivated by his voice. They were gentle, but strong. Flaming, but icy. Terrifying, but wonderful. They burned into her, the feeling of it both painful and relaxing to Christine. It was like an addiction, and she never wanted to let this go.

"Christine," Erik whispered, adding to her pleasure. His voice mingled with his eyes in a haze. Christine felt lightheaded, as though she would faint. But she did not allow herself to. She would not ruin this.

Erik's head was swimming. He saw all the sadness, longing and uncertainty in Chiristine's eyes, and his heart ached for all the pain she was feeling. He wanted to stroke her hair, to ease her pain. But it would be overwhelming, and he would want more, more of _her_. He could not let himself hurt her. This had to end before it tore his gaze away from Christine's eyes with a quick jerk of his head.

Christine felt as though she had fallen from a great height. She had been flying, but then she had fallen. She felt reality set back in, and she remembered that all was not well. Erik had turned his back to her, and a rush of panic overcame Christine; he was angry with her. He would not forgive her. Christine was on the verge of tears once again, and she had to at least plead with him, or apologize.

"Erik," Christine stammered, her voice frail and wavering. "I'm so sorry."

Erik spun back around, and Christine flinched. He was undoubtably angry with her, and she deserved whatever would come next, and braced herself for it.

Erik felt immeasurable pain when he saw Christine shrink away from him. He would never harm her! How on earth did she even have the illusion that he could ever hurt her? He had turned to face her because of her sudden apology. What was she apologizing _for?_ She had just made him the happiest man in the world, and she was _apologizing?_ It made no sense.

"Sorry?" Erik managed. "Whatever for, dear Christine?"

"Oh Erik!" a tear rolled down her face. "Please dont toy with me like a child! You know very well what for!"

Christine was reduced to sobs, and Erik was quite confused.

"But Christine," Erik spoke earnestly. "You have just refused to marry the Viscount. I do not understand why you are apologizing to me."

"No! Not that!" Christine choked through her tears. "For asking you to give me away. For putting you through all this. Oh, Erik, I'm so sorry!"

Erik was now at ease. He thought it quite silly of her to be apologizing to him for that now, for she had already made it up to him.

"It is forgotten, Christine." he whispered, wiping her tears away with his hankercheif.

But Christine shook her head."No, no! I was dreadful to you Erik, and all you have ever done is love me! I am so selfish Erik! Why do you love me at all? I dont deserve the love of someone like you! I've done nothing to earn it."

"Love is not something that must be earned, Christine," Erik was shocked at his own words. He did not understand what love was, but he had just said this, and he felt that it was true. Christine had not done anything in particular to make him love her, he simply loved her. It was natural. It made his feelings for her even stronger.

Christine felt that Erik's wise words had freed her of a heavy load. It was true. Love could not be earned, you either loved someone or you didnt. But how did one realise what was love and what was a strong companionship? Though Erik had unlocked this secret to her, Christine felt that love was still very alien to her. However, a warmth had spread through her when Erik had said that his love did not need to be earned. It had made her feel secure and...loved.

"No," Christine whispered. "It isnt."

Christine took a step toward Erik, not a big step, just an inch or so. She wanted to be closer to him, and she felt her heart flutter when he inched closer to her in response. She rested her hand against his chest lightly, and felt it raise and lower slightly as he breathed. It reminded her that he was human. That he was a man.

Erik struggled to keep his breathing even, to remain calm. She was touching him. Her hand was on his chest, moving whenever he breathed. She was not pressing it against him, just lightly resting her hand there. The warm, tingling sensation that ran through every fiber of his being was intoxicating. _She_ was intoxicating. He wondered how it would feel to stroke her cheek, to run his fingers over her lips...No! He was going too far. He would _not_ do anything to her.

"Christine," his voice was calm and collected in contrast to how panicky and scattered he felt. "Would you like to come down to my house?"

Christine blinked. It would be very odd to return to that place. But she was willing to go down there for Erik, if that was where he wished to speak with her. She nodded and followed as he turned and led the way back down into the cellars of the opera house.

Erik felt his heart rate soar, and he allowed it to. This was too much for him. He knew his boundaries very well, and he was very near to exceeding them. He shouldnt be taking her to his house, he would go too far and she would get hurt and likely never come near him again. He would have to tell her that it was best they keep their distance, for her sake. That was what must be done, and he had to do it to protect her. He simply _could not _allow himself to give in to temptation.

Christine followed Erik closely, somewhat afraid of what would happen if he were to leave her. She had no way of finding the way to his house, or back to the stage. She would be lost. Then again, she was afraid of what would happen when they were alone in his house. She felt so oddly toward him. She was enticed by his voice and his eyes, but she feared him, just as she would fear any other man. It would be all too easy for him to take advantage of her, and though she did not think he would do something like that, it was a risk with every man. And Erik was, indeed, a man.

Erik was aware of this too. The last thing he wanted was to frighten her away, so he would keep his distance. He would be a perfect gentleman, making no move to approach her or touch her at all. He would have to be very careful and disciplined.

They finally made it to the lake. Erik helped Christine into the boat, the got into it himself and rowed across the lake. Upon reaching the opposite shore, Erik got out of the boat, tied it down and helped Christine onto land. He opened the door to his house and allowed Christine to enter it before he went in. He reluctantly closed the door. Now they were fully, completley and utterly alone.

Christine had taken a seat on a sofa in the living room. Erik decided it best to sit in the chair opposite her. They faced each other for a while before Erik spoke.

"Christine," he said in a calm, matter of fact tone. "You know that I love you. But I do not want to pressure you into accepting me. I think I made a poor decision by trying to force you to love me. It cannot be done. I think we should both continue living our lives as we did before all of this."

Christine frowned. She could not go back to the way she had been living after all of this. Mama Valerius would surely welcome her back, but how would she expalin it to her? But Christine realised that Erik was making yet another sacrifice for her, and it was all she could do to nod her head.

"May I have permission to call on you sometime?" Erik asked, slightly embarassed.

"Of course," Christine siad, as though it was obvious that was the answer.

"Would you like to stay here until the evening, so that your guests will have time to clear out?" Erik offered.

"Yes, thank you," Christine accepted. She did not need to face the aristocrats who would be very angry with her for leaving Raoul. Or very grateful. Either way, she did not want to deal with either types of comments, and she especially did not want to have a confrontation with Raoul. No one would stay in the opera house until late in the evening, they likely had things to attend to, people to have tea with.

"Good," Erik rapped his fingers against the arm of the chair. He glanced into the Louis Phillipe room and saw the dress he had bought for Christine. He stood up, excited. "Christine, there is something for you in your bedroom."

Christine blinked in surprise. _Her _bedroom? She rememered that Erik had given the room to her exclusively, and she felt happy that he had maintained that possesion for her. She stood up and walked into the Louis Phillipe room, Erik following close behind. The room was the same as it had always been, but she gasped as soon as she saw something out of the ordinary. A beautiful dress was laid out on the bed, and a pair of gloves rested on top of it. The dress and gloves coordinated perfectly, as though they had been made to compliment one another.

"Erik, they're wonderful!" Christine beamed up at him. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, looking down at his shoes. "Thank you so much...what are they for?"

"For you, of course!" Erik chuckled.

"I was referring to the occasion," Christine corrected herself.

"You can wear it whenever you like," Erik shrugged. "I do not need a specific reason to want to dote upon you, Christine."

Christine blushed and shooed Erik out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Erik was very amused. Christine was obviously eager to try on her new dress, and he was thrrilled that she liked it. he had imagined her in that dress and those gloves for too long. He was finally going to see the actual person in the clothes. Now that solid wood seperated him from Chrisine, he did not feel the raw longing. He was at ease around her once more. Perhaps the sensation came and went occasionally. He hoped that was the case.

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**Thanks for reading, please review! Oh, and my friend Hope wrote this and I had to put it up, here it is;**

Broken Hearts Do Bleed....  
In other words, a broken heart is just like an open cut. The more you let it bleed, the longer it takes to heal...but, with the love and kindness of your friends and family it will heal. They are just like your Band-Aids!

Broken Hearts Do Heal.....  
Just like cuts, the broken hearted heal. They are supported by their friends and families who in this case are like expert surgons who stich the wound up perfectly....well almost. You see, most broken hearts are like deep cuts that require stiching....they heal with time, care, and love...but they also leave a scar as a memory of what happened. But believe me, It sure does feel much better when its all said and done with and your all stiched up!

I love each and everyone of you...Whether it be as a friend, family or something in between.  
-Hope

Ummmm, well, she directed this to me...so she probably dosent love each and every one of YOU. But that was awesome and I wanted to show and tell, so...there!


	7. Honesty

**I have been very bored lately, and I get very entertained with simple things when I'm like this, so I cant keep my attention on one thing for very long. Which means I write about a sentence, then jump up and touch the ceiling. Then sit back down, write another sentence. You get the picture. I cant sit still long enough to write alot at a time, so updates are going slowly. Please be patient, I am still working on this and I talk about it nonstop. Special thanks to MacKenizie as always. I really am trying to get updates up on a timely basis. But stupid finals...you all know that tune. Thanks for sticking with me and thanks for the reviews, they get me through crazy days.**

**I do not own POTO**

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Christine spun around in the dress. She absolutely adored it. It fit her perfectly and complimented her figure, just what any female would want in a dress. She wondered how Erik knew to buy this dress. This dress that seemed to be made for her. Then again, she wondered how Erik knew many things. She also knew it was best left alone, for she would never find out and it was pointless to try. She slid the gloves on and flexed her hands inside of them. They also fit perfectly.

Erik patiently waited for Christine in his living room. He was eager to see how the dress looked on her, though he was already certain that she would look stunningly gorgeous in whatever she wore. He snapped his head up as he heard the door to the Louis Philippe room open. Christine came out of the room and Erik nearly gasped. She looked exactly like Erik had pictured her, but so much more exquisite. The dress fit her well, and she looked absolutely breathtaking. Perhaps that was why Erik could not breathe properly. A smile lit up her features and she started toward him, lifting the dress so she could walk without tripping.

Erik tried to come up with something intelligent or at least meaningful to say. But he was drawing a blank and could not think of _anything_ to say to her. She now stood in front of him with that smile on her face and he had to say _something._

"Well," he started, trying to keep from stuttering. "I...I dont know what to say, Christine. I am at a loss for words."

An adorable blush spread across Christine's face and she muttered a thank you. Erik made a full circle around her to see the dress on her from all angles. However, he did not want to make the impression of a preadator circling it's prey, so he quickly ended this practice. He made a study of her face. Her head was very slightly cocked to one side, her lips were set in a slight, almost unnoticeable smile and her eyes sparkled. She was happy. Erik thought that this may have been the first time he had seen her truly happy in his presence. He wanted that expression on her face every time he saw her, he never wanted to see her unhappy, and he felt a surge of anger toward anyone who would dare to upset her and take that look off of her face. Erik felt bound to keep her happy at all costs, and he was happy to do so.

"Do you like your dress, Christine?" Erik suddenly found words and was able to speak.

"Very much," she nodded, looking down at it. "It is very beautiful. Thank you."

"No, thank _you,_" Erik replied. "My eyes have never seen a sight as wonderous as this. As wonderous as _you_, Christine."

Christine felt heat rush into her cheeks as she blushed. He was excellent at causing her to blush, and she did it often when he complimented her. She was not embarrased, but she could not think of anything to say to him, so her blood rushed to her face to excuse her from speech. She looked up into Erik's eyes again, wondering what he thought of them himself. Christine knew how she herself felt about them, but what did he see in his own eyes? If he hated his face so much, did he also hate his magnificent eyes? Had he even taken the time to look at them in a mirror before? The thought saddened Christine, and she blinked and looked at the ground. He knew how charming his voice was, but how could she make him realize the pure beauty in his eyes?

"Christine?" Erik had seen the sadness that had crossed her face before she looked down. Had he done something wrong? "What is it? Are you alright? Do you want to go back up to the surface? I will not hold you here against your will, my dear."

"No,no, Erik! It's nothing like that at all!" Christine looked back up and shook her head. "I was just thinking."

"Oh," Erik blinked, releived that she did not wish to leave him. "What were you thinking of, Christine? You seemed upset by something. I hate seeing you upset."

"I was just thinking..." she trailed off. "Have you ever seen your eyes, Erik?"

Erik blinked. He had seen his eyes before, yes. They were gold. "Yes, Christine, I have seen my eyes."

"No, no," she shook her head. "Have you ever _seen_ your eyes?"

"I'm not sure I understand," Erik was greatly puzzled. He did not comprehend what she was asking him.

"I mean," she tried to voice her question better. "Have you ever looked deeply into them? Tried to see what was on the inside of them?"

"No," Erik answered. "I have only ever looked deeply into _your_ eyes."

"Erik, you really should try," Christine urged him. "I have never seen such things as I do when I look into your eyes. It's as though I can completely detatch myself from reality. Your eyes are like your voice, Erik."

"Christine," Erik sighed. "Allow me to ask you this. Have you ever looked deeply into _your_ eyes?"

"No," she shook her head. She had never felt the desire to study her eyes in a mirror. She did not need to look for her emotions through her eyes, she was the one experiencing them. "But it's different with you."

"How so?" he inquired.

"You seem to hate everything about yourself," she began. "But I thought that if you loved anything about yourself, it would surely be your voice and your eyes. Then I wondered if you had ever taken the time to look at your eyes. To try and find something good in yourself."

"No, I havent." Erik muttered. "I dont think there is anything to try to find. I do not like searching for what does not exist."

"It does exist!" Christine insisted. "Perhaps someone else just has to find it for you."

Erik looked down at her. She looked seriously at him. He knew that she had said exactly what she meant. Maybe she could find the goodness in him...

"Perhaps," Erik chuckled and gestured for her to sit down on the sofa. She did, and she expected Erik to take his seat next to her. But he did not. He sat down into a chair across from her and folded his hands in his lap. Christine could not stop thinking about his eyes. Perhaps one could only see such things in another's eyes. Perhaps he saw the things she did when he looked into _her_ eyes. There was a silence in the room. As strong as iron yet as delicate as glass. It could be broken in an instant, but neither of them had the desire to speak. They were both perfectly at ease just being in one another's company.

"So how has life been without...all of this?" Erik ventured to ask, trying to be conversational. He really did care to know how her life was going on without him, and he wanted her to be truthful.

"Oh," Christine blinked a few times, surprised by the question. She did not want to hurt him, but she did not want to lie either. "It's been fine I suppose. I was living with Raoul, but he did not want me to perform..."

"What?" Erik was shocked. he knew that Christine hadnt performed since he had let her go, he would have heard her, but he had assumed it was of her own will. "He did not allow you to sing?"

"No, no," Christine shook her head. "He allowed me to _sing._ He did not want me to _perform._ He was afraid that you would take me again, so he would not even let me near the Opera House. He was the one to suppose we should be married at the theatre. After the...well he thought you were dead, so there was no reason to fear anymore. I wanted to go and keep my promise to you as soon as I read the paper, but Raoul was furious with me for wanting to go back. I told him I was going regardless, but he kept a very close watch on me from then on. I didnt get an opportunity to leave the estate."

"So," Erik seethed, grinding his teeth and gripping the arms of his chair. "It was all the fault of that _boy_? It was because of him you neglected your voice and could not keep your promise to me?"

"Well," Christine shifted. "I could have sung whenever I wanted. I think I disappointed him by not singing actually. But I had no desire to sing. There was no reason to, I suppose. But yes, he kept me in the house because he feared trickery on your part. That and the wedding kept me very busy..."

Erik was hardly listening. She had already told him most of this, and he had heard her conversation with the boy regarding her promise. He was so angry because the boy had not allowed her to do what she was made for. He had not let her perform. She had stopped singing.

"Christine?" he asked. "Did you _want_ to perform?"

"Of course I did!" Christine answered. "There is nothing like the feeling I get on stage. But what was I supposed to do? He loves my voice, and he wanted to hear me sing. But I could not sing with the same passion, and I chose not to sing at all because of it. It's my fault really."

"Would you sing for me Christine?" Erik tilted his head. "We could resume our lessons. If that is what you want, of course."

Christine was overjoyed. She felt the need to sing. She wanted to sing. She had to sing. She had been deprived of it for so long, and now she craved it like a starving man craves food.

"That would be wonderful," she honestly agreed.

"Then come with me," Erik stood up. "There is no time to lose. You have likely not sung at all since you've been with him."

It was true, Christine had not sung since the last night she had performed. The night of her abduction. She followed Erik into his room and stood behind him as he sat down at his organ. They began warming up with scales and the lesson proceeded from there. Christine felt wonderful. She felt like she was soaring high above the earth, releasing all her doubts and insecurities. Purging herself of all negativity. She had almost forgotten how good it was to sing, how she felt when she sang. She remembered all of her previous lessons with Erik and tried to put them into her voice. She sang with him and he played his organ, it felt to Christine like the most perfect thing in the world. This was by far the finest music lesson she had ever had from him. Music filled the air, and it seemed as though they were breathing the music, not oxygen. Christine thought that she had a taste of how Erik felt whenever he was composing.

Erik was pleasantly surprised by Christine's voice. It was still very good, most certainly neglected, but still good. There were things that would need to be reinforced of course, but Erik did not bother with them for the moment. Christine was obviously enjoying herself. She just wanted to sing. He would not deny that to her. She did not need to be critiqued today, she just needed to sing and be happy. He was enjoying her voice as well. Hearing her sing could make anyone smile, and it did so much more for Erik. It was only when Christine's voice was strained that Erik reluctantly stopped her.

"You did well today, Christine," Erik told her. "We will start again tomorrow."

Christine nodded. She felt exhilerated and exhausted at the same time. She walked a few steps ahead of Erik back into the living room. She felt lightheaded and very dizzy, and she swayed, starting to fall. However, Erik caught her before there was any risk of her hitting the floor. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her over to the sofa. He laid her down and took a seat in the chair once again. She was not unconscious, but she was apparently very unsteady. Erik knew that it was because he had overdone it with the music lesson. He should have ended it sooner. It was all because he could not get enough of her voice. Because he was too selfish to think of her. To caught up in what he wanted, and he did not think of the consequences.

"I'm so sorry Christine," he apologized. "I shouldnt have taken you so far."

"No, Erik," Christine shook her head, smiling. "Please do not be sorry. I havent felt like this since the last time I sang. I forgot what it was like, and I was not paying attention to myself. It was my fault, not yours."

"Well, as long as you're alright," Erik smiled behind his mask.

"Thank you," Christine breathed. "For doing this for me."

"Not at all, my angel," he replied. Erik suddenly felt something nagging at him, and he took out his pocket watch to check the time. It was seven at night. "Christine it has gotten late. I should be getting you home now."

"Oh," Christine blinked. "How late?"

"It is currently seven o'clock in the evening," he answered.

"My, that _is_ late," Christine chewed on her lip. "I'm not sure if Mama Valerius is expecting me at this hour. I havent seen her for quite a time. I'm sure she was expecting me to live with Raoul from now on." She was talking mostly to herself, but of course Erik heard her.

"You are more than welcome to stay here tonight, Christine," Erik offered. "You are always welcome here."

"You wouldnt mind?" Christine asked meekly after a breif pause.

"Not in the least," Erik answered gently. "Are you feeling better?"

"I think so," Christine nodded and tried to sit up.

"Careful," Erik offered his hand to help and she accepted it. He put one hand between her shoulders, as she used the other one to pull herself up and he helped her to an upright position. Erik made sure to do it slowly. He did not want to make her dizzy by moving too quickly. "There you are, is that better?"

Christine nodded. She was glad to be staying here. She did not want to have to face anyone in the streets who had attended the wedding, which was basically all of the aristocrats in Paris. She would have to see them all tomorrow of course, but she wanted to put it off as long as she could. She was very grateful to Erik for opening up his home to her. She remembered her nights spent there previously. Sleepless nights where she only thought of escape. But now she was staying here of her own will, and she was happy to be there.

Erik sat back down, but this time he sat beside Christine on the couch, his body and head turned slightly toward her. He did not feel the intense sensation, and he felt that he could control himself and be near to her. She was not leaning away from him, so he got the impression that she didnt mind being this close to him.

Christine turned a bit more toward him and eventually conversation started. They both laughed and chatted about unimportant things. It was a very relaxed atmosphere and both of them were very happy. Erik made no move to touch Christine, and he did not have the aching desire to hold her as he had earlier. Christine was perfectly at ease, comfortable with Erik beside her.

Time passed quickly, and soon enough, Christine had dozed off on the sofa, her head leaning against her hand and arm which were propped up by the arm of the sofa. Erik chuckled and picked her up again, carrying her into the Louis Philippe room. He laid her down on the bed and brushed a lock of hair out of her face. He stood, admiring her for a few moments before leaving the room and closing the door behind him. He sighed as he made his way back to his own room. He was in a state of light happiness, not overwhelming joy, but a very nice, bubbly delight. He sat down at his desk and began writing letters to the managers. Instructions for the new season, warnings to keep box five clear, that sort of thing. He finished with that quickly and simply sat there, his head tilted up as though he were studying the ceiling. But images of Christine were all that he really saw.

Erik was broken out of his trance-like state by a noise coming from the Louis Philippe room. Erik sat bolt upright and strained to hear the sound better. It was Christine, and she was sobbing hysterically. He shot out of his chair, out of the room and to the Louis Philippe room. He opened the door hastily, but without making a sound. Christine'e eyes were squeezed shut and she was either still asleep or trying to go back to sleep. Either way, she was weeping uncontrolably and she shook violently. Erik quickly went to the side of her bed and shook her shoulders gently. Christine opened her eye's, but then closed them again and cried even harder. Erik was very concerned and sat beside her on the bed. He stroked her forehead and smoothed her hair.

"Oh God Erik!" Christine choked. "Oh God..."

She gripped his forearm and Erik pulled her into a gentle embrace, rocking her back and forth and shushing her. She cried even harder, but did not shrink away from him.

"Erik, Erik...Oh God!" Christine cried repeatedly, holding on to his arm. Erik wanted to know what was causing her to behave like this, but now was not the time to ask. Now was the time to fix everything for her and ease her pain.

"Shhhh," Erik allowed her to hold onto his arm, and he rubbed her back with his free hand. "I'm here, Christine. You're alright, I'm here my love."

Her sobs quieted to silent tears eventually, and she drifted into a fitful sleep. Erik laid her back down slowly and got out of her bed. She whimpered as the bed shifted, but she did not wake. Erik placed his hand on her head and stroked her forehead with his thumb. It felt warm, and he made a mental note to keep an eye on her health. He sang softly to her, to fight away the nightmares, to soothe her and help her to sleep. He sang well into the night, and Christine slept peacefully, never stirring again. Erik eventually stopped singing and simply watched her sleep. He would be there if she had another nightmare, and he could make things easier for her. He could never leave her. She was like a porcelain rose. Beautiful and fragile. He would not allow anything to break her.

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**There you go. Hope you liked it. Please read and review. Really, dont review if you havent read it. It's the weirdest thing, some people review without even reading the story. Crazy right? **

**-H.E.**


	8. A Secret

**So sorry I havent updated for such a long time. I really did lose track of time. But school is over now, for the most part, so no more stress! Alot more time to write as well, so there will hopefully be more updates. **

**I do not own POTO**

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Erik sat on the sofa in his living room. He was eagerly waiting for Christine to wake up, but he did not want to frighten her by standing just outside her door. However, he kept his eyes locked on the door, so he would see her as she emerged from the Louis Philippe room. Erik got to his feet as he saw the handle turn and Christine stepped out of her room. He was instantly worried.

Christine looked ill. There were dark circles under her eyes. Her shoulders were slumped, and she looked as though she would fall over at any given moment. Erik was tempted to run to her immediately. But he thought better of it and took a more gentle approach.

"Good morning, Christine," he greeted her, keeping his concern out of his voice.

"Good morning, Erik," she smiled weakly.

He dipped his head and gestured to the sofa. Christine started toward it, but Erik noted that there was a difference in the way she walked. She did not have the light step that was usual for her. Her steps seemed slower, as though she was weighed down by a load. He watched her carefully as she took her seat on the sofa. He stood, studying her for a moment, then sat down in the chair across from her. She offered him another smile.

"Would you like breakfast, Christine?" Erik ventured, trying to keep his tone level.

"No, Erik," she sighed. "But thank you."

Erik nodded and pretended to occupy himself with something in the kitchen. His eyes never left her, but she took no notice of his sideways glances. She sat with her feet tucked under her, and she stared into empty space, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. He thought he saw a tear threaten at the corner of her eye, but she blinked and it was as though it had never been. Erik felt his heart clench at seeing her like this. She was so...broken. The light that once radiated from her entire being was gone, leaving her in a pale, almost cold beauty. Her expression was mournful and she sighed. She sighed the most heartrending sigh Erik had ever heard. He felt an overpowering urge to hold her, to find what was causing her this pain, to solve this problem.

But he couldnt. As much as he wanted to, he could not risk frightening her away. Especially when she was in such a vulnerable state. But he hated seeing her like this. He could see the sadness on her face, where her pretty smile used to be. It was driving him mad. He had never felt such a strong desire to draw someone from misery. He felt like he would do anything to please her. He thought of singing for her, but then thought better of it. If he sang for her in the state he was in, he would not sound comforting. he would sound desperate and forceful. He would scare her away. He combed through his thoughts, searching for a solution. Music had always succeeded in releiving some of his own pain, but could the same be said for Christine?

He looked over his shoulder again. He saw the most incredible being in the world sitting on his sofa. His heart swelled as he saw her, and he drove all other thoughts and uncertainties away as he made his way into his bedroom. He left the door open and sat down on his piano bench, focusing on the pleasant feelings he had when he thought of Christine. The notes came easily. It was a soft, pretty little song. The melody lifted and fell quickly to the harmony and it all came together to form a simple peice. It was not intense or overbearing. No. This song was for Christine. This song _was_ Christine. Erik felt another surge through his chest and he inhaled deeply, as though he was breathing the music itself. He felt a smile pull at his lips as he expressed the simple joys he felt though his music. The simple joys that Christine inspired.

Christine felt tired. It wasn't the sort of tired that going to sleep would help. She had not slept well for the beginning of the night, plagued by nightmares. But after a particularly dreadful dream, she remembered being soothed and calmed into a restful slumber. She had received all the sleep she needed, but it did not help the weariness she felt. She had hardly noticed Erik that morning, her thoughts were so distant. He had asked her if she wanted to eat breakfast. But she had found that she had no appetite. The weight of her emotions had finally collapsed upon her, and she was being smothered by it. She could not so much as clear her thoughts, much less come up with coherent things to say to another person. She did not reign in her thoughts, prefering to let them wander. How could she ever emerge into the city like this?

Just when it seemed to Christine that there was surely nothing left but this hazy daze she was in...there was music.

It was soft and sweet, but at the same time very deep and soul stirring. It was like a leaf falling to rest upon the surface of a pond. The sound dispelled her deepest fears and worries. It was impossible to dwell on the oppressing thoughts when those enchanted notes filled the air. She rose from where she had been seated and closed her eyes, allowing the music to fill her up from head to toe. She lifted her head and parted her lips as though she was trying to catch rain in her mouth. Nothing like this had ever before graced her ears. Christine's eyes snapped open. There was only one person who could produce such a heavenly sound. Erik.

Christine slowly made her way to the open door of Erik's bedroom, savoring the music as it flowed around her. She stepped into the room and beheld Erik. He was seated in front of his piano, his fingers dancing over the keys. But he was not playing a song. He was willing music itself to come from the piano by delicately touching the keys of the instrument he weilded. He was creating beauty. He was painting his art over the silence of the world. The world was truly silent compared to this indescribable music. And Erik had brought it there. He swayed slightly as the music coursed through him and out of him. He seemed to be at peace. This was Erik. This was the true Erik. He was not a villain, a ghost, a phantom or a corpse. He was music.

With the last chord, Erik sighed and stood up, turning to leave his room. He immediately stopped. Christine stood only a few feet away from him, and a tear rolled down her cheek. She seemed entranced by something, and Erik realized that it was his music that had done this to her. He swelled with happiness and took a long step to bring himself closer to his Christine. He immediately saw that some color had returned to her face, and the circles beneath her eyes were not as dark. He wiped the stray tear from her face with his hankercheif.

"Erik..." she gazed up at him with wonder. Erik knew that his eyes were betraying him, but he responded calmly regardless.

"Yes, Christine?" he looked down at her, but she did not speak.

Christine looked into the golden eyes that seemed to hover over her. They danced and flickered with what could only be described as happiness. He had been as enthralled by the music as she herself had been.

"That music..." Christine started but could not finish. There were no words to describe what it had been like to listen to and the effect it had had on her could not be disregarded.

"It was for you, Christine," Erik murmered, his voice quiet and reserved. Christine had never heard this tone before.

"I..." Christine could not adequately express her gratitude, or sheer joy.

Erik felt a prickling sensation at his core again as Christine furrowed her brow. She had the most adorable expression, one of delight, amazement and confusion all mixed together. He wanted to pick her up and spin her around, to make her know that he wanted her to be as happy as she was right now forever. He had seen couples on the rooftop, the man would pick his lady up and twirl her around as if she were extremely lightweight. He had never understood why they had done it, but now it was clear. He was overflowing with happiness, and he wanted the same for Christine. But he quickly reprimanded himself for thinking he could be so free with her.

Christine felt a rush of joy. That music had been for her! He had made that beautiful music...for her. She had nothing to trouble her now. There was nothing that could ruin this feeling. Erik had taken the effort to produce something that was absolutely flawless, and he had done it for her.

Erik felt dizzy. Christine now beamed up at him. It was as if the sun itself had decided to come into Christine to shine though her. His fingers ached to brush her cheek, to run through her golden hair. Her pink lips looked full and inviting the way she smiled up at him. Soft, delicate, and moist...No! He could not give in! She would run screaming from the room if she could hear the thoughts going through his head. He stepped back away from her and looked back to his piano. Yes, there was nothing about his piano that could unsettle him like Christine did. He took strange comfort from that fact. He sat on the piano bench once again and absently studied the keys on the piano.

Erik felt Christine beside him as she also took a seat on the piano bench. She looked at him with her head slightly tilted and her eyes sparkling. That was the look. That was the look he wanted to see on her face every day, every moment that she was with him. He felt a certain pride, for he had been the one to put this look on her face. That odd, warm sensation rose to the surface again. Erik immediately resisted it, focusing once more upon his piano. He felt his heartrate return to normal, but his head still spun. He blinked to try and clear his thoughts.

"Erik?" he heard Christine's voice beside him, clear and soft.

"Yes, Christine?" Erik tilted his head to emphasise his interest.

"Thank you." Her lips turned up at the corners. "For everything."

"Of course," he answered.

Christine studied Erik for a while. He was leaning over the keys of his piano slightly, and his eyes were locked in place, as though he had detected something that required his undivided attention. He looked so calm. He was not tense, he was not angry. He just sat silently, as though he was going to play, but his hands never left his lap. He was such a curious person. At that moment, he looked like the most gentle creature that had ever existed, sitting in front of a piano with his hands folded in his lap. But wasn't that what he had promised her? That he would be gentle if she would love him? _Did_ she love him? Christine did not want to dive into such deep waters at the time, but chose to observe this new Erik instead.

However, her observation was cut short by an audible churning of her stomach. She flushed a deep crimson as she saw Erik turn his head in her direction. He chuckled and stood, holding out his hand for her.

"Would you like breakfast _now_, Christine?" he asked.

Christine nodded and took the hand he had offered her. She expected him to wrap his thin fingers around her hand, but he did not. He simply allowed her hand to rest in his palm as he led her toward the kitchen. Upon reaching their destination, Erik pulled out a chair for her at the table, then set about the task of making her breakfast.

Erik had desperately wanted to cut his hand off as soon as Christine had taken it. It was his own fault for giving it to her in the first place. As soon as her fingers had brushed his upturned palm, a searing yet pleasant feeling had traveled all the way up his arm to settle in his chest. It felt as though his blood had become as warm and thick as honey. He led Christine to the table in his kitchen and pulled a chair out for her, then left her so he could prepare her breakfast. There was still a tingling on his skin where she had touched him. He shook his head quickly to remain in control. Why was this happening now? He had been fine only a short while ago.

He quickly set Christine's food in front of her and sat in the chair across from her. She ate one bite after another, looking at her food, but not really seeing it. Her eyes were distant again, but not sad like they had previously been. She seemed to be pondering something as she ate. Eventually, she had finished her food and looked back toward Erik.

Christine had been thinking of her odd night. Now that her stomach was in the process of being appeased, she could think more clearly. It was not possible to be soothed into sleep by nothing, so something must have done it. Someone. There was only one person who could have, and once again, that person was Erik. She looked up at him from her end of te table. He was watching her, a strange glint in his eyes. It seemed odd to Christine how she had never noticed these small things that changed how he appeared, that explained how he felt. But now she could note and understand some of the things that told how he was feeling. Maybe it had never been difficult. Perhaps she had just never taken the time to see them.

She saw Erik rise from his seat and take her plate. She felt very rude for assuming he would take her plate and immediately got to her feet to help him. But as she stood, her foot caught the hem of her dress, and she tripped forward. SHe braced herself for the impact, but it never came. Erik had spun around to catch her and she now looked up into his masked face.

Erik's heart pounded in his chest. Had he not glanced over his shoulder at that exact moment, Christine would have fallen and likely hurt herself. All of the odd sensations that had been coursinsg throughout his body seemed to dissolve as she lurched forward. His instinct to protect her from harm had overcome them so that he could come to her aide. Erik felt something click into place inside of his head. _He_ could control these feelings around her. _He_ could push them aside for her benefit. _He _was in control. Erik felt relief at first, then confidence. He would not let anything interfere with his precious time with Christine now, not even his own feelings. He held her for a moment, then stood her up again, releasing a small chuckle. He then turned around to go about the business of cleaning the dishes. However, Christine seemed to have the same idea, and also made for the sink.

"Christine," he started, taken off guard. "You do not need to wash up. I will take care of it."

"Please, Erik," she shook her head. "I think it's the least I could do for you after all the things you've done for me."

Erik blinked. He watched as Christine began to thouroughly scrub the plate she had just eaten off of. He felt quite useless, and went to stand by her side. As soon as she finished cleaning the dish, he gently removed it from her hands to dry it and put it where it belonged. He would make it a point not to tell her where the dishes were placed in the kitchen, so he would always be needed to help. They finished the dishes and Christine used a corner of Erik's towell to dry her hands. She smiled up at him.

"At least I can wash dishes without getting hurt," she spoke, the trace of a laugh in her voice. "But then again, I was well supervised."

Erik allowed a small chuckle. He did not like putting her to work like a servant. She was his guest, and should be treated as such.

"Christine, there will be no need for you to take care of anything while you are under this roof," Erik informed her. "You are a guest in my house, therefore you will have no more responsiblilty than a guest would."

"Don't be silly, Erik," she shook her head again. "I would rather make myself useful than sit and watch you work."

Erik nodded and gestured toward the living room. He still did not like the idea of Christine doing chores, but if it was what she wanted, who was he to take that away from her? He walked beside her as she made her way to sit on the couch, then took his seat in the chair opposite her. Erik had enjoyed his time with Christine immensely, but he felt guilty for keeping her down with him for so long. She didn't deserve to be locked away with him.

"Christine, I think it's time for me to take you back to the surface," Erik spoke up.

"Oh," Christine blinked. A horrible feeling welled up inside of her. She remembered why she was down there at all, and it was the same reason she dreaded returning to the city.

"It isn't healthy for you to be down here," Erik tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. "You need to be in the sun and fresh air."

"It isn't healthy for you, either," Christine murmered.

"What? Would you rather me walk around in broad daylight?" Erik chuckled, a hint of bitterness in the sound. "I don't think so. I am more suited for the darkness. Not like you."

"Oh," Christine blushed. She wished she could come up with something more intelligent to say to him. "I am sorry for that, Erik."

"There is no need for you to be sorry," Erik shook his head. "It is not your fault. You are certainly not to blame for my...well, you are not to blame."

Christine berated herself for bringing up such a sensative topic. She wanted to turn the conversation around. How had his face come into the picture at all?

"I will take you back up whenever you are ready," Erik broke the silence.

Christine nodded. Then a thought entered her head.

"Would you spend the day with me?" she looked up at Erik and saw him blink in shock or surprise.

"Pardon me?" he choked.

"Would you come to the surface with me and stay with me for the day?" she felt her heart beat a little faster in anticipation of his answer.

"Christine," he sighed. "I'm not sure if that is such a good idea."

"I see," Christine felt her heart sink. "I'm just nervous about going back up to the surface. I dont know how people will react after what happened."

"Ah," Erik looked to the side. "You are afraid of what people will say."

"Yes," Christine looked down at her hands.

"Then we suffer from the same problem," Erik shook his head. "We are too concerned about what others will think of us. As long as we are sure of ourselves, it should not matter. As long as we beleive in our decisions, it should not matter. But it does matter, regardless of whether or not it should."

"But you did not have a choice in this matter, Erik," Christine reached out and placed her hand over his.

Erik looked back at Christine and glanced at her hand which rested atop his own. She was such a kind human being. If everyone was as kind as Christine was, the world would be a very pleasant place to be, even for people like himself. He gently grasped her hand and looked down into her bright blue eyes. She was worried about what people would think of her for making a decision that would decide her future. It had hurt her to have made that decision, and people were going to hurt her even more by judging her for it. That or they were going to approve of it and still hurt her by doing so. Erik could understand why she didn't want to face that.

"No, I did not," he whispered, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. "But it does not matter whather or not I chose it. It is what it is, and there is nothing to be done to change that."

Christine nodded and Erik thought she tightened her grip on his hand, but he could have imagined it.

"Whether or not we do so today," Erik started. "We shall have to face the world eventually."

"We?" Christine asked in a hesitant voice.

"Yes," Erik nodded, turning her hand over in his, so that her palm faced upwards. "We shall face the world together."

"Thank you, Erik," she whispered.

"No, Christine," Erik lightly traced a pattern on her palm. "You do not need to thank me for this. This is something I should have dealt with long ago. It is about time I created a life for myself in the city."

Suddenly, Christine jerked her hand away from him.

"I'm sorry Christine," Erik felt himself growing hot. "I wont do it again."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Christine giggled, taking his hand in her's once again. "That tickled is all."

"Oh," Erik did feel quite ridiculous now, but an idea had formed. "This?"

He lightly ran his fingers up and down the underside of her forearm.

"Yes, yes, _that!"_ she laughed, the sound filling the room. Erik refrained from continuing, not wanting to run the risk of becoming a nuisance. He knew that some things, though amusing at first, could soon become irritating. But he had made her laugh none the less, if only for a short period of time.

"I see," he chuckled. "I didn't know you were ticklish."

"Some people use that to my disadvantage," she smiled. "I try to keep it a secret. But now you know, so keep it to yourself!"

"You have my word," Erik softly assured her.

Christine felt like a little girl. She hadn't laughed like that since before her father had died. Her father had been the only person to know that she was ticklish, and he had constantly used that against her. She thought that having someone else know her and her father's secret would hurt, but now that Erik knew, she felt like they were closer. Like a barrier between them had been torn down. She was very glad that she and Erik had a secret to share.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ **Well, I know it's not the best chapter I've put up, or the longest, but I felt like I owed you guys something, so I hope you liked it! Please review!**


	9. Discomfort

**Okay, so the whole update regularly thing didn't exactly work out, but it also doesn't help that my internet connection has been having alot of problems lately. Once again very sorry for the delay. Thanks for all of your support and reviews! I would like to once again point out that my spell checker is no longer at my disposal, so please forgive errors and bear with me, I'll try to be more careful! Here's the new chapter!**

**I do not own POTO**

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Christine watched as Erik fiddled with his clothing, though it was already impeccable. She could almost sense his anxiety, or perhaps it was only her own. They had decided that today would be the day that they would go out. She had taken comfort in the knowledge that Erik was just as reluctant, if not more than she was to go out of the security of the house by the lake. However, she also knew that this was going to be difficult for him. She did not intend to completely rely upon him to carry her through it. She was tired of being sheltered and protected every moment of her life. She needed to be strong, for herself and for Erik. There would be no cowering behind him this time, they would face the world together as he had said. Truly together, neither one hiding beihind the other.

Christine had suggested they go out in the evening, that way there would be less people to confront the two of them. But Erik had insisted that it be done correctly, with no detours or barriers. He had made it perfectly clear that they would go out in the daytime, where anyone who wanted to see them could. Christine had sensed the wariness in his voice when he had said this, but she knew that it would be best to get it over with fully the first time and she did not argue. It had been three days since that conversation had taken place and the decision had been made. Now, they were prolonging their exit from Erik's home.

Erik tugged on his sleeves, despite the fact that he knew they were perfectly straight. The last thing he wanted to do was go out in broad daylight. However, he had reasoned with himself and come to the conclusion that it would be best to make the first time the worst, so when they went out in the future, it would seem nicer in comparison. He still hated the idea, but it needed to be done. The sunlight would be good for Christine, as would the warm, spring air. He knew that she was nervous about returning to the surface after the wedding, but he also detected the determination within her. She was strong enough to handle this. If that was the case, then why could he not be just as strong?

"Are you ready, Christine?" Erik looked up to see her. She was standing not too far off, and her eyes were fixed on him. She nodded in the affirmative and took a few steps forward.

Erik couldn't help but notice how nice she looked. She was not wearing her new dress, but the simple dress flattered her just as nicely. Her hair flowed out behind her as usual and her eyes were a whirlpool of emotions. She was so very pretty and simple. Simply pretty. Erik felt like a child because of the trail his thoughts had made, but how could he help it?

Erik blinked back to reality to find that Christine now stood in front of him, waiting for him to indicate their departure. Erik felt an unknown emotion fill his stomach, and he swept his eyes over his familiar home. He had gone out before, but not as conspicuously as he was about to. Then he looked at Christine. He saw the tiny smile that lifted the corners of her lips. He remembered that she was ticklish. A warm feeling chased away the uneasiness in his stomach and he felt ready to proceed. He offered her his arm and she took it, and he escorted her out of the house and onto the shore of the lake.

He led her to the boat and helped her into it. He felt tense as he rowed across the lake and he was conscious of Christine's eyes on him the whole time. He was glad that he was taking her out into the light of day, where she belonged. If he happened to be going with her, it was merely an added bonus. The boat touched land and he got out to properly secure it. He offered a hand to Christine and she allowed him to help her out of the boat. When she was safely on dry land once again, he began to lead her to the hidden exit. He released her hand to unlock the door, and watched as it began to open.

Christine felt nerves eating away at the inside of her stomach as she once again took Erik's hand and was led outside. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light, and she thought she felt Erik cringe, but it could have been her imagination. They both stood still for a moment, neither daring to go forward or back. Christine's eyes flicked back to the half open door that would take them back to the security of the house by the lake. She heard Erik sigh. She looked up and saw him take one step in the direction of the door. Her heart leapt and she wondered if he was having second thoughts about their decision. However, he merely reached out and fully closed the door. There was no going back now. There was only one thing to do. Christine sucked in a breath of air and started toward the busy city streets.

Erik kept pace with Christine as she started toward the crowded streets of the city. He had chosen to wear the mask that he had worn to her wedding, so as to blend into the sea of people and avoid notice. What was another face in the crowd to these city-dwellers? Even so, he felt as though he needed to be prepared to disappear if necessary. But how could he disappear? He was with Christine, and he could not abandon her to the mobs of people. No, he would stay with her regardless of what people did to him.

Christine felt as though her heart would beat it's way through her chest. They were steadily coming nearer to the stream of people, and so far nobody had noticed them. The only thing that kept her from turning in the opposite direction was Erik's gentle grip on her hand. People were less likely to notice couples. Couples roamed the streets as much as people who were alone. She and Erik may not have been officially together, but it would seem as though they were. They were about to join in among the throng when Christine felt Erik slip his hand out of her own.

"Perhaps it is best that we are not so close to one another," she heard his voice in her left ear. "People might assume..."

Christine nodded, but her newfound security had vanished. She felt nauseous and terrified. She felt herself begin to tremble and she didnt see how she could possibly go through with this.

"Christine?" she felt Eriks fingertips on her upper arm, and she looked up to see that his golden eyes were filled with concern.

"Erik," Christine choked, tears beginning to sting her eyes. "I don't think I can do this."

"Christine," Erik repeated in a more gentle tone. "I know that you are frightened. I feel the same way. But we are here now. What good would it do to turn back when we have gotten so near our destination?"

Christine felt a tear run down her face, but Erik wiped it away with a stroke of his thumb. He was correct, as was usual. There was no point in running back now that they were so close to accomplishing what they had come for. Christine nodded and turned to face the crowds again. Some people had already noticed them standing off to the side, but they had merely continued along on their way. Christine's spirits lifted a little; what if that was all people would do? Finding new confidence in this thought, she merged into the crowd, Erik at her side.

Erik was tense. He felt as though he was drowning. Surrounded by people on all sides, he had no way to hide himself. He glared at the few people who glanced up at him, and they quickly looked away. It was a good thing that Christine had convinced him to leave the lasso at his house by the lake. Otherwise, he was sure he would have strangled someone by now. But he continued to walk by Christine's side as they flowed along at the pace of the surrounding people. It took nearly all of his willpower to keep from pushing past all of the people ahead of him and drag Christine behind him. But he somehow managed to maintain composure, matching Christine's speed. She seemed to be as nervous as he was, for she often cast glances at people whose eyes had come to rest on her.

Erik watched as Christine turned a vibrant shade of red as one man came to a complete halt to stare at her, his mouth parted and his brows meeting in a frown. Erik could not contain the anger that built up inside of him. He took hold of Christine's hand and pulled her closer to him, also taking a step closer to the man to tower over him. He glared into the man's dull grey eyes until his expression turned to one of fear and he scurried off. Erik stepped back to Christine and saw her eyes were downcast and her cheeks still flushed. He lifted her brushed her cheek with his fingertips and she looked up at him, a desperate expression on her face. Her eyes were frantic, and Erik felt a pang in his chest for her obvious distress. He tightened his grip on her hand a bit and nodded his encouragement.

Christine took a shaky breath and resumed walking, though at a quicker pace this time. Erik did not try to slow her down, and his hand gently but firmly clasping her own enabled her to keep her confidence up. The last reserves of her initial confidence had been dissolved by the older man who had stopped in order to see her more clearly. Several peopel had glanced at her, but they had simply moved along, not interested enough to care. However, just one person staring could make several people start staring, and that was what Christine was terrified of happening. But, as was often the case, Erik had stepped in and scared the man off as he gently provided his support by taking her hand.

Christine tried to focus on anything but her surroundings. Mama Valerius' flat was not too much farther away. It would certainly be much easier to duck into a carriage, but it would not benefit their purpose in leaving the house by the lake. No. Erik was right. She would not be a coward and hide. She looked up at Erik, who had spent the better part of his life hiding from the world. But he also had good reason, and she could not in any way picture him as a coward. No. He stood tall, keeping his eyes ahead. He reminded her of a trained soldier marching out to war. In a way, that was exactly what he was. He was fighting a battle that had been raging inside of him for who knew how long. He was now winning that battle. Christine felt immensly proud of him, and made it known by lightly squeezing his hand as they walked on.

Erik felt Christine's eye's on him and looked down at her. There was a slight smile on her lips and a sparkle in her eyes, and her head was tilted up a bit so that she could see him. He felt her hand squeeze his and his heart felt lighter in his chest. Had they not been surrounded by people, he would have returned the gesture with a small show of affection. But seeing as they _were_ surrounded by people, he merely pulled her a little closer to him and kept walking. He was glad that Christine had not seemed to take notice of the many sets of eyes that had begun to linger on them. He made an effort to ignore them so as to make Christine think he was unaffected by their staring. In truth, he wanted nothing more than to take each of them by their necks and demand to know what so interesting.

But for Christine, Erik refrained from violence and stayed relatively calm. Her hand in his was also helping to relax him, and he took to stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. He wondered if she enjoyed holding his hand as much as he enjoyed holding hers. What if she was completely uncomfortable? Erik found himself not caring whether or not she enjoyed it. He was selfish, and he was going to enjoy it regardless of her feelings. The time would come when he had to release her, and she could take a sigh of releif _then, _but no sooner. No, he would savor this contact for as long as he could.

Christine's thoughts were no longer of Erik. She had not seen Mama Valerius since she and Raoul had visited her after Erik had released them. She had sent her an invitation to the wedding, but she had not made an appearance. Christine was partially grateful for this, considering how the wedding had concluded, but it had aroused curiosity as to why she had not attended. Surely she would not intentionally miss such an important day in Christine's life? Perhaps she had merely forgotton, it was quite likely to happen. But still, there was a bad feeling that Christine could not seem to shake off.

The feeling continued to grow inside of her as she and Erik neared their destination. Soon enough, the entrance to the flat was before them, and Christine rapped upon the door. She felt her heartrate increase as she waited for someone to open the door. After what seemed like an eternity to Christine, the door opened and an unfamiliar butler stood in the doorway.

"How may I be of service to you?" he asked in a polite tone.

"Is Madame Valerius in today?" Christine asked in a shaky voice.

"Madame Valerius is no longer resident here due to her recent passage," the butler informed her, in his ever so polite tone of voice.

"You mean..." Christine felt her heart sink.

"She has passed on mademoiselle," the butler allowed sympathy to leak into his voice. "She died approximately three weeks ago, or so I have been told. My condolences."

Christine was unable to respond, and the butler quietly closed and secured the door. Christine could not beleive what she was hearing. She could not have died! But then again it had been more than five weeks since she had seen her. It was actually more likely than not. Christine felt physical pain in her chest and sank to her knees, one trembling hand over her mouth, and began to weep at the entrace to the flat that was once the home of her kind hearted benefactress.

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**Sorry again for the pitiful length, but i'm having a bit of writers block on this one, so there will probably be a breakthrough for me soonish! Thanks again for all the support and I wish I could do more for you guys! You're all awesome! Read and review please!**


	10. A Discussion

Erik stood over Christine, at a loss for what to do. He had never experienced the death of a loved one, for he had never truly loved anyone before Christine, and here she was, living, breathing, and crying before him. He crouched down beside her and placed a hand on her violently shaking shoulder, moving her hair out of her face with the other hand. He gently rubbed her upper arm, feeling his heart break as he saw the tears flow down her face. How could the world be so cruel to someone so kind? First her father, now her benefactress. She was losing everyone she had ever cared for. No. Everyone she cared for was being ripped away from her. Erik ground his teeth together behind his mask, to the point of making his head ache slightly. He looked back down at Christine to see her looking up at him with red eyes and tear stained cheeks. Erik subtly opened his arms, giving her the opportunity of an embrace if she needed one.

She did. She wrapped her arms tightly around Erik's torso and continued to cry, her whole body trembling against his. Erik in put a hand on the back of her head and his other arm around her middle, gently swaying from side to side. He stroked her head with his fingertips, trying as best he could to provide shelter and comfort her. He had no words to help in this situation, so he had to use physical contact to express everything he wanted to tell her. That he loved her. That he didn't want her to be upset. That he was always going to be there. He tried to tell her this through the gentle embrace that he held her in as she cried into his chest.

Christine felt empty. There was nothing left for her. She had no more reason to live and she wished to die on the threshold of her deceased benefactress' home. She succumbed to sobbing, and she did not care who was looking at her. Nothing mattered, life did not matter. She did not even exist. She onle served as teh shell of a person who used to exist. There was nothing for her.

Then she felt Erik's hand on her shoulder and her hair being swept out her face so that she would not wet it with the tears that seemed to flow like a fountain from her eyes. She realized that she did have something, she was not alone, and she _did_ have a reason to live. His hand moved down to her upper arm and lighlty rubbed it, comforting her with his touch. She looked up at him to see him looking into the distance, his eyes clouded over with anger. But all that anger disappeared as he turned back and looked down at her. His deep, golden eyes were filled with care and love as they beheld her. She saw him move his arms slightly, to where it looked as though he wanted to hold her, but was hesitant to initiate the embrace. She was not at all hesitant as she threw her arms around him and pressed herself to his hard chest. She continued to cry, wetting the fabric of his clothing. She regretted soiling his nice shirt and jacket, but she could not bring herself to stop crying.

She felt Erik's hand on the back of her head and his arm around her middle back. He was petting her head with the tips of his fingers and rocking her gently from side to side. The motion was soothing and helped to calm her, but tears still jerked at the corners of her eyes and she let them escape down her face. Eventually she stopped shaking and the tears no longer came, but she did not pull away from Erik. Her heart felt as though it had been peirced, and she needed him to help heal it. He was here holding her in front of a flat in the Rue Notre-Dame-des-Victoires because she could not keep her emotions in check. She was not ready to live on her own. She was completely inexperienced when it came to teh ways of the world. She needed someone to guide her. Her father had taken on that task. Then her Angel of Music had come along, and then Raoul. But now there was no Angel of Music. There was a man before her, loving her and comforting her in her time of need. A man named Erik.

A pang went through Christine's chest as she realized that she was with someone who could take good care of her, who could give her what she needed and who could also give her music. Erik had given her her voice and he could provide her with anything and everything by any means necessary. An unfamiliar, warm feeling built up in her chest and trickled into the rest of her body. It was a good feeling, and Christine wondered why she was feeling such things. She felt Erik's chest rise and fall slightly as he breathed in a slow, even pattern. Her cheeks became hot as she realized that it was Erik who was arousing this warm, tingling sensation. She liked the feeling and she wanted more of it. But her feelings were forgotten as she heard a familiar voice call her name.

"Christine?" Raoul de Chagny stopped to look more closely at what he was seeing. He had not seen Christine since she had left him at the altar. But here she was, on the ground in front of Mama Valerius' flat, in the arms of an unknown man.

He could not beleive his eyes as she turned to look at him with red, puffy eyes and a shocked expression on her face. But what bewildered him still more were the flaming yellow eyes of the man whose arms had just come from around Christine to tense up by his side. He knew those eyes. In the shadow of the doorway they were clearly visible. Those were Erik's eyes. He realized that he had crafted a very deceptive mask that made him appear normal. But Raoul had been told what was beneath the mask and he shuddered to think of Christine in that monster's arms.

Erik had heard the boy call Christine's name and felt like stealing her away from him in that instant. But se may have wanted to speak with him, and he removed his arms from around her and held them firmly to his sides. He glared at the boy and wished him a thousand deaths, but then regretted his thoughts because it would hurt Christine if he were to die. He simply watched the boy for a few moments, then stood and helped Christine get to her feet. He deliberately held onto her hand a little longer than necessary to let the boy know that Cristine belonged to _Erik_ now, and that Erik would not allow her to be stolen away again. He hesitantly released her hand, but proceeded to brush a loose lock of hair behind her ear. He wanted to make it abundantly clear that Christine was not going to be taken from him again.

Christine allowed Erik to help her up from the ground. She was embarassed that Raoul had seen her in such a pitiful state, but she got up with Erik's help and stood beside him, her cheeks flushed. She fought to keep her eyes on her friend rather than let them drift to Erik as she felt him place a lock of her hair behind her ear. She loved it when he did that, it showed his gentler side, and she was glad that he had chosen to show that side to Raoul. She desperately wanted Raoul to accept her decision, and Erik was making it all the more convincing. She would still uphold her decision even if Raoul did not approve of it. But she was happy with Erik, and if Raoul could not allow her to be happy, she did not need him in her life.

"Hello Raoul," Christine smiled at her friend, acting as though nothing were out of the ordinary.

"Good day, Monsieur le Viscount," Erik dipped his head, much to Christine and Raoul's surprise.

"Raoul, you remember Erik?" Christine gestured to him with her hand. She felt foolish for asking. Who could ever forget Erik?

"Indeed I do," Raoul was glaring up at Erik though he was speaking to Christine. "May I speak with you privately, Christine?"

"Erik, will you excuse us for a moment?" Christine looked up at him. He looked down at her and brushed her cheek with the tips of his fingers before turning to cast a warning glance at Raoul, and then disappeared around a corner.

"Christine," Raoul started in a hushed, but urgent tone, shaking Christine slightly by the shoulders. "What has he done to you?"

"Monsieur, I demand that you release me this instant," Christine said calmly. "And Erik has done absolutely nothing to me."

"Christine," Raoul sighed, dropping his hands. "I think that monster has you in some sort of trance."

"Erik is _not_ a monster!" Christine shouted, not intending to be so loud. "You will not suggest something so untrue and horrid to me again or we shall never meet again, Raoul de Chagny!"

Raoul stood, shocked for a moment. He saw the genuine nature of what she had said shining from her eyes. "Do you not remember all that he has done to you?"

"All that he has done to me, Raoul?" Christine crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "He gave me my voice, he showed me how strong love could be, and he showed me how much he is willing to do for me. If that is all what he has done to me, I would beg him to continue."

"Christine! Christine!" Raoul exclaimed. "You are not in your right mind! You surely are not with him of your own will..."

"How would you know what my own will is!" Christine once again shouted in a shrill voice. "How could you possibly know what I want to do? I am my own person Raoul, I can make my own decisions!"

"Christine," Raoul tried a different approach, and adopted a gentler tone. "I am simply not sure if you are basing your decisions on..."

"On what, Raoul?" Christine snapped. "On what I actually want or on what is better for you?"

"Christine," Raoul was taken aback. "I did not mean to imply that you are being selfish. I only want you to be happy. I could make you happy! I could give you so much! But as you have pointed out, I am not the one for you. If I cannot be the man to provide for you and care for you every day, I simply wish to know that you are with someone who will."

"Raoul," Christine made an effort to calm down and be rational. "I _am_ happy. I will not go into detail, but I _will_ say that Erik has made me feel happier than I have been since my father died. Raoul, you are a good friend to me, and a good man. I do not want you to be gone from my life. But you cannot insult Erik if you wish to maintain our friendship."

"I apologize," Raoul sighed. "I was not prepared to see you with him and my rash behavior was unwarranted. But is this really what you want, Christine? I know that only you can live your life, but does he truly make you as happy as you say?"

"I can't explain it, Raoul," Christine's voice held a note of wonder, and she could not help the small smile that lifted the corners of her lips. "He is so different from anyone else. He knows how to make me smile, and he notices the little things about me that nobody else seems to see at all. He knows just how to comfort me when I'm upset, and he knows how to keep me from being upset at all. I...I think I love him, Raoul."

"I see," raoul looked away from her. "Perhaps there is a side of him that only you can see. Maybe you were meant to be with one another. But if you ever change your mind, if he ever gives you reason to leave him, do not hesitate to tell me. I will help in whatever way I can."

"Thank you," Christine smiled at him. "You are a good friend, Raoul de Chagny. There is someone who is meant to be with you. You may find her in a very unexpected place under very strange circumstances. But she will love you as much as you will love her. You deserve _her_ Raoul."

"Thank you, Christine, " Raoul smiled. "If we are done speaking I have a few words for Erik."

"Of course," Christine nodded.

Erik had pressed himself against the wall after he had turned the corner. The urge to turn back around and demand that the boy never so much as look at Christine again was overwhelming. He was breathing heavily and fighting the desire to listen in on their converstaion. Christine wished to speak to the boy alone, and he would give her the privacy she had requested. His fingers were nearly digging into the wall behind him with the effort of not going back there. He could not bear the thought of Christine leaving him yet again for that boy. He pressed himself even harder to the wall and took deep and even breaths to try and calm himself. She could not put him through the suffering that he had experienced before. Not again. He clung to that hope and it was the only thing that could allow him to stay where he was.

"Erik?" he heard Christine's soft tinkling voice and turned his head to see that she had come from the otehr side of the wall and was now standing beside him. "We are finished speaking with one another."

"Has he left us?" Erik asked.

"No," Christine sighed. "He wishes to speak with you. Please, Erik. He is only concerned for my well being."

"He needn't be concerned about you," Erik looked down at her, gently stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

"I know that, Erik," she smiled. "But Raoul is my friend, and he only wants to be sure."

"If it will please you," Erik sighed. "I will speak to the young man."

"Thank you, Erik," Christine whispered.

They rounded the corner side by side and came to stand before Raoul.

"You wish to speak with me, Monsieur?" Erik began in a calm tone.

"Yes, I do," Raoul started. "I have known Christine from childhood, and I have come to care for her very much over the years. I would not be able to sleep at night if I left her with someone who was incapable of taking care of her and making her happy."

"I will keep her safe and cared for," Erik looked him in the eyes. "You may certainly count on that, Monsieur."

"That is all I can ask from you," Raoul sighed. "I wish you two the best. I will try my best not to hold a grudge for anything that has occured in the past."

With that, Raoul took his leave, and Erik and Christine were left to watch him turn the corner and leave their feild of vision.

"You handled that very well, Erik," Christine looked up at him with pride in her eyes. "Thank you so much for listening to him and being polite."

"Only for you, Christine," Erik whispered. "I could not bear to upset you."

"You have not in any way upset me, Erik," Christine whispered in return.

"Let it remain that way..." Erik said to no one in particular.

Christine took Erik's hand and he gently grasped her's in response. They made their way back to the main street and joined in with the flow of people, neither one of them caring about the people that were staring at them. Erik found that he was releived that the Viscount had accepted Christine's decision. He did not seek out the boy's approval, but it was never a bad thing for someone to give their assent. This boy genuinely cared for Christine, and Erik could understand why he felt as though he would have to tell him to take care of her. Erik would have said the same things to him.

Christine was filled with happiness. Raoul was her friend, and, naturally, he wanted her to be happy. She knew that he did not understand her relationship with Erik, but he accepted it for what it was, and that was all that Christine could have ever hoped for. She did not want to drive her friend of so many years away, but she was not willing to leave Erik and put him through that sort of pain. No, she was nearly certain that she loved him, and she didn't see how she had been able to leave him at all so many weeks ago. She felt like a new person. She wondered if Erik felt the same way she did. No was the answer she gave to herself. He loved her more than anyone could ever love anything else, but she felt as though she loved him as much as she could, and that was all she had to offer him.

"Christine?" Erik's unsure voice interrupted her thoughts. She realized how interesting her name sounded when it came from his mouth.

"Yes, Erik?" she responded, considering her own voice coarse in comparison, now that she was paying attention to such things.

"I was wondering if you would like to stay at my house by the lake," he asked, turning his head away from her. "Considering the recent turn of events. If you would like to stay elsewhere it will not offend me."

"If you wouldn't mind, I would very much like to stay at your house," Christine looked down at the sidewalk, a sharp pang of sadness passing through her chest.

"You are always welcome to stay with me, Christine," Erik assured her, lightly squeezing her hand. "I am very sorry for the passing of your benefactress. You do not deserve to suffer so much."

"Thank you," Christine nodded. "For everything that you've done for me."

"I would do anything for you, Christine," Erik said simply.

They spent the rest of their walk back to the Palais Garnier in contented silence, simply enjoying the fresh air and each other's company.


	11. The Confession

**Sorry for the shocking lack of any author's note on that last chapter. **__**I usually write them after the actual chapter, and to be honest I completely forgot about that when I typed it up, so thats what happened. Sorry for that confusion...anyhow thanks for reviewing, all of you wonderous people. So I went through a time where I was unable to write for a while and sorry for the long wait. Hopefully school will fix things up. Funny how summer didnt help my writing at all like I thought it would... Anyhow, my apologies. I would like to thank my friend Albert for his help on this chapter and there would be no chapter without the support of my indirect brother and sister. Thanks for all the support you guys, you seriously keep me going. Thanks to all of you reviwers again and I hope you enjoy and review!**

**I do not own POTO**

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Erik opened the hidden door that led to the dark passages that would take them below to his home. He was nearly ecstatic from their meeting with the Viscount. Christine had been given the opportunity of going away with the boy again, and still she had stayed by his own side. Did that mean that she was finally his? Erik knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he loved Christine, but could she ever come to love him as well? His mind told him that nothing could come to love a monstrosity such as himself, but his heart clung to the tiny thread of hope that had formed. He was aware of Christine moving closer to him in the darkness and he shuddered at the feeling. The darkness that cloaked them heightened Erik's senses and he closed his eyes to better enjoy the feeling of her soft hand in his dry and dead one. He had no right to touch such perfection, but it felt so good and he refused to be the one to break off the contact.

Erik shut the door behind them and neither of them moved for a moment. Erik felt completely at peace. Christine had chosen him over the rich, handsome, charming Viscount. Erik had to admit that the boy had everything a woman would desire, and yet Christine was beside him. He felt his hand tighten slightly over her's as a strange sense of possesiveness overcame him. She was his. She would never leave him now. He would not allow it to happen. No, he did not deserve her. No, she did not deserve to be shut away from the world with a monster. But that was the way things were going to be. He would never leave her. He could never live without her now. Erik moved closer to her and stroked her cheek with the back of his index finger. He heard her sigh and his lips twitched beneath his mask. Yes, he would stay by her side always.

Christine sighed as she felt Erik trail his finger down her cheek. Her hand slightly ached from his strong grip on it. It was like a physical representation of the two psycological sides of Erik. His hard, strong side, then his soft and gentle side. She felt her heart beat faster. He was choosing to be gentle with her, where he could have chosen to be forceful and make her stay with him. It made her more certain of her feelings for him. As her eyes adjusted, she could make out the outline of his mask, and his golden eyes shone ever brighter in the blackness surrounding them. They captiveted her as they usually did, revealing all of his emotions to and conveying his love and adoration. She tried to do the same with her own eyes, but she knew they would not have the same effect. So she decided to try a different approach.

Erik saw Christine perfectly even in the darkness. Her eyes were turned up to meet his. She had the most lovely eyes of any human being in existance. Erik was so entranced by the brilliant beauty of Christines eyes that he was almost unaware of her fingers curling aroung the edge of his mask. Almost. He immediately released her and moved backwards about three feet to press himself to the wall of his secret passage. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he struggled to take in enough oxygen to support the rate at which his heart was now pumping blood. Emotions swirled within him. Anger, betrayal, but mostly confusion. Why would she want to remove his mask again? She was obviously quite horrified by his face. He pressed his eyelids together and tried to steady his breathing. No matter how he felt now, he would regret any action he took at the moment. He merely flattened himself even more against the wall, as if he could merge into it.

Erik flinched as he felt Christine's hand on his chest. He moved to the side and turned his back to her, his body trembling and his nerves frayed. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides and ground his teeth.

"Why?" he whispered sharply, still not facing her. "Why, Christine?"

"I..." Christine faltered. Her intentions had been far different than the actual outcome. "I didn't mean to...won't you turn around, Erik?"

Christine watched eagerly as Erik remained perfectly still for a moment, then cautiously turned around, keeping a short distance from her. His eyes were a storm of emotion and it nearly caused Christine physical pain to see that she had caused such turmoil within him. She took a step toward him but he backed away from her.

"Erik please," Christine's voice shook and she reached out to him with one hand. "I didn't mean to hurt you! I only..."

Erik tried desperately to understand what she was saying. She was making no sense to him...or maybe she was making perfect sense and he was simply too shaken to understand. She appeared to be genuine, so whatever she was saying was certainly the truth. Still, he kept his distance for the purpose of safety.

"I only wanted to show you..." Christine fumbled for words that wouldnt be awkward, but it seemed as though she had already failed at that attempt.

Erik started at her words. What did she want to show him that required the removal of his mask?

"Show me what?" Erik ventured.

"If you'd only trust me..." Christine shuffled her feet in Erik's direction.

"I trust you, Christine," Erik stepped forward to stand directly in front of her. He delved into her eyes once more and tried his best to act on his trust.

Erik inhaled sharply as he felt her hand on his mask again.

"Erik," she said softly, moving her hand down to his exposed neck, which she gently stroked. "Do you want to know something?"

"Yes," he replied, enjoying the feeling of her fingers petting his skin.

"I cannot see you," she laughed. "Only your eyes."

Erik blinked. He had forgotten that other, _normal _people could not see so clearly in the dark.

"Ah," was his only remark.

She proceeded to gently remove his mask. Erik felt the moist air on his face and shuddered at the strange feeling. He shifted uncomfortably. He did not like the fact that he was so exposed, especially with Christine's eyes upon him. True enough, she could not see his excuse for a face, but that did little to put him at ease. He searched her features for any trace of shock or fear, but there was none. Instead, she wore an expression which he could not read. He watched as Christine placed the mask on the floor of the passage. She then stood back up and stood on tiptoe so that her hands could cup his cheeks. He blinked once more and his eyes widened as he opened them. She was gently pulling his face down to where their noses were mere inches apart. Erik was certain his heart had stopped beating.

Christine was shocked by her own confidence. Her hands were not trembling the slightest bit as she put one on each side of Erik's face. She searched his eyes and watched his emotions flicker through them. Initially there had been shock, but that was slowly replaced by what she could only relate to pure terror. Gathering all the courage she could muster, she tilted her head up and planted a soft kiss on Erik's lips.

"I love you, Erik," she whispered, then kissed him a second time. She pulled her hands back quickly and clasped them behind her back, casting her eyes to the ground.

Erik stood bolt upright. He was very glad that Christine could not see him, for his mouth was in the proper position to catch flies. His mind was shouting at him to do something romantic and charming in response to her confession of love. However, his body was in a state of shock and he could do absolutely nothing for a few moments. Fortunately, the shock wore off quickly and he shook his head to regain his senses. His eyes found Christine immediately, her hands behind her back and her eyes seemed to study the ground under her feet. He came to full realization of what she had just said and done. She loved him! He had seen the truth of it in her eyes! His angel was no liar!

"You...I...me...love...Christine!" Erik found himself incapable of forming a complete sentence.

Christine looked up and into his eyes, which were wild with excitement. It brought a smile to her face and joy to her heart and she nodded vigorously.

"Yes, Erik," she laughed. "I love you!"

Erik couldn't contain himself. He scooped Christine into his arms and gazed lovingly into her eyes before softly kissing her forehead. He saw her cheeks darken and couldn't keep a smile from spreading across his lips. He put Christine back on her feet and proceeded to watch her tuck her hair behind one ear and avert her eyes, a tiny smile on her face. He looked to where his mask was on the ground and leaned over to pick it up. He placed it over his face and tied the strings behind his head.

Christine was exhilerated. She had to force herself not to not to jump up and down and spin around in circles. She felt like a little girl again! Her head seemed to float above her body and she blushed madly. Her heart seemed to be trying to escape her chest and she suddenly felt completely off balance. She staggered backwards and started to fall, but Erik was already there and swept her into his arms.

"Christine!" Erik exclaimed, his eyes frantic. "What happened? Are you alright? Was it because of what I did? I am so terribly sorry, I shall never be so bold again!"

"Don't be absurd!" Christine chuckled, feeling very lightheaded. "I don't know what's gotten into me..."

"When was the last time you ate?" Erik's eyes shone with concern.

"I..." Christine tried to recall the last meal she had eaten. "I don't remember."

"Then we must return at once!" Erik cried, turning a quick cirlcle and making Christine rather dizzy. "You need to eat something."

Erik hurried along his secret corridors, taking the shortest possible route to his house on the lake. He cursed himself for not entering through the gates of the Rue Scribe, which was generally a shorter path to take, but he was nearly to the lake now, and there would be no point in turning back. He took, long quick strides and soon enough he was at the small dock where his boat was tied. The carefully placed Christine into the boat and proceeded to step into it. He untied the boat and began rowing as fast as he could to get to the opposite shore. Christine was conscious, but Erik knew that she needed to consume something, and in short order. He berated himself for not being aware of her needs. How could he have forgotten something as simple as providing her with food?

The boat came to a halt as it rammed into ground. Erik Leapt out and pulled the boat onto land. It wasn't much heavier than it usually was despite the fact that Christine was still inside of it. When he was sure the boat was fully out of the water, Erik lifted Christine and carried her to the entrance of his house. Shifting her weight into one arm, he unlocked the door and entered his home. He hurried to the sofa and laid Christine out on it. He looked at her for a moment before rushing to the kitchen to prepare a quick meal for her. He cursed audibly. There was very little in his kitchen, which had likely contributed to Christine not being fed. He eventually settled on a small loaf of bread and some butter. It wasn't much and it certainly was not the meal his Christine deserved, but hopefully it would satisfy her until he could provide her with something decent.

Christine gratefully accepted the bread and butter that Erik presented her with. She had been unaware of just how hungry she was, but now her stomach churned and growled like a wild beast. She made an attempt at politeness, but ended up ravenously wolfing the whole loaf down in very little time. She was a bit embarrased, but her hunger was satisfied. Erik took her plate from her and quickly washed it in the kitchen. He then returned to his chair by the side of the sofa and took her hand in both of his, stroking her wrist with his thumbs.

"Forgive me Christine," he started softly, his eyes downcast. "I had forgotten that you need to eat more often than myself."

"There is nothing to forgive," Christine replied. "The fault is mine. I cannot have expected you to completely alter your lifestyle for the sake of my eating habits."

"You are too kind, sweet Christine," his eyes met with her's for a moment before he looked back down. "You shall receive a proper meal in due time, but I must do some shopping in order for that to occur. My kitchen seems to be low in stock."

Christine nodded drowsily, her full stomach making her sleepy. It did not escape Erik's notice.

"You have had a long and trying day," Erik ran a hand through Christine's hair. "You should rest."

Christine nodded and made a move to get off of the sofa, but found herself in Erik's arms, pressed into his chest. She relaxed and felt his strength as he supported har as if she weighed nothing at all. She craned her neck and kissed his exposed jaw. She could scarce beleive that she had found the man she was meant to be with, but she fully beleived that Erik was that man. She nuzzled her head into his chest and sighed contentedly. Yes. This was where she belonged.

Erik felt the wonderful and dangerous sensation building in his chest once more and travelling throughout his body. He was holding his angel to his chest and she had just kissed his jaw without warning or hesitation. Her head was now buried in his chest and he struggled to keep moving as he was overcome by emotion. But he eventually reached the Louis Philippe room and put her in her bed. She looked up at him with tired, but contented eyes.

"Goodnight, Erik," she said softly. "I love you."

"Goodnight, my angel," Erik stroked her cheek with his fingertips. "I love you."

Erik pulled the blankets to Christine's chin and propped her head up on her pillows as she drifted off into sleep, a tiny smile playing upon her face. With one last look at his sleeping angel, Erik extinguished the lamp and exited the room, closing the door behind him. He went into the living area and took a seat in his usual chair. It was only then did he feel the stinging and throbbing in his ankle.

He bent over and lifted his pant leg to get a better look. There was a long cut just above his left ankle, likely inflicted by a nail or a peice of glass as he was racing to get Christine some food. It was no longer bleeding, but the cut looked deep. Erik hastened to the water closet and washed out the wound with cold water. He had survived worse than this. Come tomorrow, he would think nothing of this little scratch.

**Eh, it's a bit shorter than the usual but at least it's an update right? Please review, feedback is very appreciated on my part and I know some people just love to rant about all the things we writers did wrong. Either way, positive or negative, please review, I'd love to hear from you!**


	12. Health

**Ta-da! I have made an update appear out of thin air! Well, sort of. See, I had it written, then my comp shut off, so I lost it before I could save it. This is the re-written edition and it was written in much haste and frustration. Anyhow, thanks for the reviews on the last chapter. They've inspired me to get an update on quicker! Well, I wont keep you with my rambling, on with the show...story...thing.**

**I do not own POTO**

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Erik had settled in his usual chair by the sofa and was waiting for Christine to awake and come from her bedroom. He had left the house by the lake almost an hour after Christine had fallen asleep and gathered enough supplies to fully stock his kitchen and provide Christine with a decent meal. He went over the previous day's events in his mind. It brought a smile to his face every time he recalled the expression on Christine's face after she had kissed him. She was the picture of innocence and he couldn't fathom how he had become so lucky as to be loved by an angel. His angel. His Christine. He sighed and closed his eyes, smiling to himself behind the mask.

Christine quietly opened the door of the Louis Philippe room and saw Erik sitting in his chair in the living area. His hands were folded in his lap and his legs were stretched out in front of him, crossing at the ankles. His eyes were closed and his head was resting on the back of the chair. She smiled at the sight. She knew that Erik did not often sleep, and to catch him in such a state was a rare occurance. She did not want to disturb him, so she left the door to her room slightly ajar and tiptoed across the living area to her place on the sofa. She watched Erik's chest rise and fall rythmically as he breathed. He looked so peaceful, almost vulnerable as he dosed. However, it did not last long, for his eyes drifted open and he blinked several times.

"Oh," he said. "Good morning Christine. How long have you been here?"

"Only a moment," she answered. "You can go back to sleep if you need to."

"Nonsense!" Erik snorted. "You need an actual meal."

She watched in silence as Erik quickly got up from his chair and went into the kitchen. Christine allowed her thoughts to wander as Erik prepared her breakfast. Her father was gone. Her mother was gone. Mama Valerius was gone. She had lost an awful lot. However, all of these terrible losses had contributed to her falling in love with Erik. Of course she missed them, but no amount of missing them and mourning over them would ever bring them back. Besides, they wouldn't have wanted her to unravel into a heap of misery. They would have wanted her to be happy, and now that she was with Erik, she finally was. She couldn't forget her mother, father or Mama Valerius, but she could finally move past feeling alone in the world. She had someone in her life that she could rely upon. She was not alone.

Erik struggled to prepare Christine's breakfast. He didn't understand how something as simple as cooking was now so ecxeedingly difficult. His vision had fogged and a throbbing pain had entered his head. He could hardly think because of the intense pain. He was very glad that Christine had decided to remain seated on the sofa in the other room. Even the sounds of the kitchen utensils clicking together sounded incredibly loud and sent pain coursing through his skull. He couldn't imagine carrying on an intelligent conversation with this headache. If it could even be called that anymore. It felt as though he had been beating his head against a hard object for hours on end. How had this happened? He placed a hand on either side of his head and pressed until there was slight releif. He was thankful that the breakfast was quite easy to prepare, elsewise Christine would have had to go without another meal. He arranged her breakfast on a tray and made his way back into the living area.

"Here you are Christine," Erik handed her the tray, perfectly disguising his voice so that his pain was not evident.

"Thank you," she said softly. Erik was very thankful that she had such a soft and sweet voice. It hardly had an effect on his headache at all.

He nodded in response and lowered himself into his chair. He watched Christine eat her breakfast. He allowed his eyes to close and the pain in his head subsided substantially. He thought of Christine and their future together. Of course he would propose to her...somehow. He would buy a home away from this accursed Opera House and he and Christine could live in a quiet home away from the city. He could maintain his work and salary at the Garnier by coming in once or twice a week. All he accomplished by coming in every day was becoming irritated by the lack of progress and poor management. Yes, he could do his job perfectly well as a commuter.

"Erik?" he heard Christine's voice and felt her hand on his forearm. He opened his eyes and stared at her hand. His headache had returned and the image before his eyes was hazy.

"Erik?" she repeated, her voice more shrill, and shook his arm gently. He turned to look her in the face. She was obviously concerned about something, her eyes wide and her grip on his arm tightening.

"Yes, Christine?" Erik was instantly alert. He sat up straight and leaned over to brush a stray lock of hair out of Christine's face. "What is the matter?"

"With _me_?" she shook her head and narrowed her eyes. "Not a thing! What is the matter with _you_? Are you well, Erik?"

Erik blinked, immediately thinking of the horrible pain in his head. However, he did not want to worry Christine with something as silly as a headache that would fade away in an hour or so.

"Perfectly, my dear," he replied, averting his eyes. He hated lying to Christine, but it was not anything particularly important.

"Erik!" Christine all but screamed at him. "Do not lie to me! What is wrong?"

Erik was momentarily shocked. Her volume was painful to his head, but that was only part of the reason he was so puzzled. He had never seen Christine so disturbed by anything. He felt even worse for lying to her. However he still did not want her to fret over him. He decided to tell her partial truths.

"I am merely a bit tired and I have a slight headache," he sighed. "That is all. There is nothing to worry about."

"Erik," her tone was more gentle now. "We all need to sleep. Why don't you go to bed?"

"I do not like the idea of leaving you alone and with nothing to entertain you," Erik answered. At least he could be completely honest with that answer.

"You have to take care of yourself before you can take care of me," Christine shook her head and stood from her place on the sofa.

"Where are you going?" Erik asked, puzzled.

"Nowhere," Christine answered. "Now get out of that chair."

Christine took Erik's hand and gently pulled until he stood on his own accord. She pulled him over to the sofa and forced him down into it, then took a seat beside him. She set his hand in her lap and stroked the back of it with her thumbs. She had no clue as to why Erik had lied to her about his health. He was normally an excellent liar, but today he had let something slip, and she knew that there was more going on than what he had told her. Still, a good amount of sleep would certainly help whatever was wrong. She had no idea when he had last slept for a decent amount of time, but she was going to be sure that he slept for a good amount of time each night in the future. She sighed and rested her head on Erik's shoulder, interlacing her fingers with his.

Erik felt content once again. Christine leaned into him and held his hand in her lap. It was as though all of the wrongs in the world were righted when he was by her side. His past didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was what was happening now, and what would happen in their future. He had a future now, and it looked bright. Erik allowed his mind to wander again as his eyes drifted shut. As pleasant thoughts filled his head, he fell into a light sleep.

Christine was aware of Erik's body relaxing and his grip on her hand loosening. She shook her head again. He really did need to establish a secure sleeping pattern or his health would slowly but surely deteriorate. Christine didn't know what she would do if she lost Erik. She would most likely fall apart once again, and this time there would be nobody there to pick up the peices. There was Raoul, of course, but she did not expect him to think twice about her after all she had put him through. No, she would not lose Erik. They would share a long and happy life. She had to take care of him as much as he had to take care of her.

Christine slipped off of the sofa and took her tray from breakfast into the kitchen. She proceeded to quietly wash and put away the dishes from her meal that morning, glancing into the living area every so often to check on Erik. He needed all the sleep he could get and she did not want to wake him again. She finished the small task of cleaning up after herself quickly, then decided to get acquaianted with his kitchen. She opened each drawer and cupboard and discovered where everything was kept. She did her best to memorize the homes of various cooking items and foods. It was all very organized and she did not want to bring disorder to the neat space by changing things up.

She left the kitchen and went into the Louis Philippe room. She straightened things up to her liking and mended a few tears in one of her older dresses. She was by no means a seamstress, but she had enough skill to repair her own clothing. Satisfied that her work was done in this particular room, she picked up a book off of her desk and returned to the living area. She took a seat in the chair by the sofa that Erik normally occupied. She opened her book and began reading it, though she was not really interested in the story at all. She often glanced over at Erik and found it hard to concentrate on anything but him.

Christine had been intent on reading her book for about half an hour before she looked up at Erik again. What she saw brought a smile to her face. He was fully sprawled out on the sofa, his body being really to tall to fit on it. His head rested upon one of the armrests and was slightly tilted, one of his arms hung limply over the side of the sofa, the other arm laid across his stomach, one leg was propped up on the opposite armrest and the other was bent to where his knee pointed toward the ceiling. It was rather a comical sight, and Christine had difficulty containing the laughter that threatened to escape her lips. However, any trace of humor was swept away as she caught sight of the mask secured tightly to Erik's face. It couldn't have been comfortable to sleep with it on. She breifly considered removing it, but dismissed the notion. Erik would not be happy if he woke to find his mask missing.

With a sigh, Christine turned back to her reading, determined to focus on her book until Erik arose. She silently wished him a deep and good sleep.

Erik opened his eyes to seemingly blinding light. He knew that this light had not been so bright before. This usually only happened when he had been going about in darkness and his eyes were not accustomed to the light. However, he knew that he had not been about at all, which meant that he had been asleep. He allowed his eyes time to adjust to the light of his living area, then when he was comfortable with the light, he sat up.

He blinked a few times and found that his vision had been restored to its usual state, and only a trace of his former headache remained. Christine had been right. He needed to take better care of himself, which meant he needed to get more sleep. He felt rejuvinated and very well rested. He yawned and stretched, which was a rare occurance for him. He rubbed the back of his neck, which was a bit sore. He had likely slept on it at an awkward angle. He ran a hand through his thin hair, then put it back by his side. He looked over his clothing. It was all horribly wrinkled, but that was what happened when you fell asleep on a sofa in nice clothing. His face hurt where the mask had pressed into it, but that was the price he paid for not taking it off.

Erik looked up and made a sweep of the room with his eyes. He found Christine sitting in his chair by the sofa with an open book in her lap. Her eyes were fixed upon him and she wore a small smile on her face.

"Are you feeling any better?" she asked sweetly, closing the book.

"Yes, thank you," Erik nodded. "I suppose I did need the sleep."

"Sleep is very important to your health, Erik," Christine's voice had a matronly ring to it.

"Yes indeed," he chuckled.

"I'm glad you are in a better state now," she added.

"As am I," he sighed.

"You are going to need to get at least this much sleep every night to keep up your health," she remarked.

Erik blinked.

"How long was I asleep?" he wondered aloud.

"Close to five hours," she replied. "Though you could likely use more."

"I do not usually sleep for so long," he shook his head.

"You should get into the habit," Christine suggested. "Erik? Do you usually wear your mask when you sleep?"

"No," Erik answered after some thought. He very seldom wore his mask to bed. However, he hadn't exactly planned on falling asleep on this particular occasion.

"Well," Christine started. "You can take off your mask whenever you want to. I don't mind at all."

"I do not wish to frighten you," Erik replied.

"I've seen your face enough to be used to it," she argued. "It's just a part of you. It isn't your fault, and I feel guilty when you have to hide it away for my sake."

"I see," Erik nodded. He didn't like the idea of going without the mask, but it wasn't as though she had asked him to go out in public without it. He could go without the mask when he was in the house and only Christine was around. Any other time, the mask would stay on. Christine would understand that.

"May I?" Christine had lifted her hands and was looking at the mask. Erik swallowed his insecurities and nodded. He closed his eyes as Christine removed the mask. He felt cool air against his face. He opened his eyes hesitantly to see Christine's reaction.

**Okay, so I'm a tad flustered and this one is just short. No questions asked because I can't remember what I wrote next. Please review!**


	13. No Matter What

**So...you know when your CD has a scratch on it and it starts repeating the same part of the word or a certain note until it drives you crazy? Sounds kinda like 'tch tch tch tch i i i i i t t t t b b b ur ur ur ur n n n' Well that is one of the many many things that annoy me to no end. Another thing that annoys me is when an author writes a story and then just leaves it so that I'm left guessing what will happen...for months...until they come back...Okay I think we all get the point here. I have left this story for a VERY long time. I am so very sorry for that. I have had a busy semester, and I thought it would help me be inspired to write. But it robbed me of time and my inspiration for this story went straight into the abyss. I have commited a horrible crime and I deserve to have my fingernails pulled out. I can't tell you how horrible and stupid I feel for leaving this phic for so long. I only hope you can forgive me and continue to read. I hope that I can get back on the horse and continue writing and pleasing you wonderful readers. Yeah, I'm out of the habit of writing as well so be patient with spelling. And since I'm just now jumping back into this story the chapter may suck. On that note... And now! The new chapter!**

**I do not own POTO ( I will no longer be writing disclaimers since its obvious I dont own this stuff)**

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Christine looked into Erik's face, completely unphased. She smiled gently and stroked his sunken cheek, trying to convey all of her love through that touch. How could she care about his face? How could she punish him for what was not even his fault? She kissed his forehead, trying very hard to make him understand that she didn't care what his face looked like. She then got up from his chair and moved to sit beside him on the sofa. She curled up beside him and put a hand on his knee. He would come to realize some day that his face did not effect her love for him.

Erik could hardly beleive it. She had not screamed or run upon removing his mask in the light. A smile spread across his face once the initial disbeleif had worn off. Christine now sat beside him on the sofa with her hand on his knee. He placed an arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head, she leaned even more into him and he rested his head on hers. He felt like a normal man with his lovely lady. He closed his eyes and inhaled the perfume of her hair, contented by her presence.

However, there was another who was not so content. Raoul de Chagny sat in the room formerly belonging to Christine. The whole place seemed empty without her, and there was an ache in his chest as he recalled all they had been through together. After she had left him at their wedding, he had been stunned. He had hardly been aware of the man who had led him out of the the theatre and back to his home. It had been weeks since that occurance, and he still felt a sharp pang in his chest when he remembered it. Then he'd seen Christine in the doorway of Mama Valerius' flat...with a man. A man with golden eyes and a realistic mask. He had hardly beleived it at first. She had disappeared from his life, only to go back to _him. _The thought of it bewildered him. Of course he had confroted her, nearly forgetting who she was with.

Raoul's eyes had locked with the gold ones that looked up from Christine to glare at him. He noticed that though Erik was glaring, the malice that had once been in his eyes was gone. It was replaced by a controlled protectiveness. The insanity and hatred was gone from his gaze, and it seemed to transfer itself into Raoul's heart, for he now hated that man more than anything. He immediately suspected treachery on Erik's part and wished to speak with Christine alone. Erik left them, but Raoul did not miss the possessiveness in his touch as he brushed his fingers over her cheek.

He had tried desperately to talk sense into Christine, but he only succeeded in making her angry. Fortunately, the conversation had ended on a more peaceful note and a request on his part to speak with Erik. He stood and looked up at the masked man with the dignity he had left, and told him what he had to say. Then he had left. He had wandered around the city for hours, until it was dark. He had then returned to his home and gone into Christine's room, lying down on the bed she had once occupied. He had fallen asleep fully clothed and woken up to find the clothing all wrinkled and askew. He couldn't have cared less.

He had no idea how long he had slept, and he really didn't care. He sat up on the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands. He was void of emotion and felt empty. He sat with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands for several hours. He had done nothing but sit there. He hadn't even thought of anything. His mind was blank. However, he eventually found the will to get up and change out of his wrinkled clothes. He donned a nice suit and once again went out onto the streets of Paris, a considerable amount of money in his coat pocket. He walked at a brisk pace, not really noticing the people he bumped into. He had no destination, but he was determined to do something and not mope around to wallow in his misery.

He halted in front of the entrance to a nicer pub, considering the possiblities. However, he shook his head, quickly dismissing the thought. However, he did go into a fine restaurant and ordered a glass of white wine. The small amount of alcohol created a warm buzz in him, but his thoughts were not affected by the drink. He actually felt as though his head was clearer. He left money to pay the bill and a tip on his table, then exited the restaurant. He resumed his walk at a more calm pace and enjoyed the warm air of spring against his face. His world was not ending. Christine was right. He did not want to love a woman who did not feel the same way for him. It would not have been fair to either of them.

As Raoul de Chagny strolled the streets of Paris, Christine Daae slept peacefully on the sofa in the house by the lake. Her head rested in Erik's lap and he stroked her hair as he began to doze off himself. The pain in his head had started to return, and sleep had cured it for the most part the last time it had happened. He observed Christine as she slept for a moment, the rise and fall of her chest, the barely noticible sound of air entering her slightly parted lips. His own lips began to tingle and he felt the horrid urge to kiss her while she was asleep. To touch her. She was like a drug, and he needed to have every ounce of her. Erik fought the vile thoughts away as best he could.

But his efforts were in vain, as he was constantly reminded of how close she was to him. The weight of her head being supported by his lap. Her hair splayed over his legs. Her feathery breaths escaping her mouth. She shifted in her sleep and unconsciously curled closer to him. He wanted to scream at these feelings to drive them away. His entire body shook. It was like he was having to physically restrain himself to keep his hands off of her. He wanted nothing more than to escape. To run away from her temptation. He whimpered as she shifted again, a soft sigh coming from her mouth as she cuddled up to him.

"Christine," the name emerged as a cracked whisper as Erik gripped the armrest of the sofa.

Erik's heart pounded in his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut to try and forget that Christine was there at all. But he eventually peeked from beneath his eyelids to look at his angel. His eyes went straight to lips. She had kissed him before. What would be so wrong about giving her a little kiss as she slept? Just a sweet gesture to let her know that she was loved and guarded. Nothing more. There was absolutely nothing wrong with that.

Erik leaned down to press his lips to hers. He was mere centimeters away when she shifted again. Erik felt his eyes roll back in his head as the scent of her hair and breath wafted into his nose. A shudder ran through his body and he sat bolt upright with a small growl. His mind raced and his whole body seemed to throb with the beat of his heart. She was so perfect...

"God help me..." Erik murmered a tear escaping his eye. "No, help _her_..."

"Erik?" Christine ran a hand through her hair as she woke up.

"Yes, Christine?" he struggled to form coherent words as he watched her stretch and yawn.

"Nothing," she smiled and tilted her head, giving him that look.

Erik felt like shooting himself. He knew that everything he was feeling was being read like a book in his eyes.

Christine looked into Erik's eyes and saw a whirlwind of emotion. His eyes burned into her with an emotion that she could not place, and it unnerved her. She felt self- conscious and shifted where she sat on the sofa. Erik twitched visibly and his eyes raked over her body, that same odd look in his eyes. She felt naked under his powerful stare, and she was frightened now.

"Erik?" she started, her voice shaky. "Are you alright?"

"Christine..." he all but growled, sending shivers up and down her spine.

She scooted away from him on the sofa, keeping her eyes locked on him.

"Erik, what is wrong?" her voice fluttered as he moved closer to her.

Christine was horrified. She was pressed against the armrest of the sofa and Erik seemed to hover over her, his crazed eyes searing into her own.

"Erik," Christine's lip trembled and she had to pause before speaking again. "I'm scared. You're scaring me, Erik."

"Oh Christine..." Erik's voice was sweet and absolutely intoxicating. "You are so beautiful."

"Erik..." Christine could feel herself shaking, tears building in her eyes. "Please stop. I'm so scared."

Erik couldn't control himself. Something had slipped and he no longer had any control. Christine was at God's mercy. All he knew was that she was staring up at him and she looked so incredibly beautiful. She was speaking but all that he registered was the sweet sound of her voice.

"Erik please!" he heard her now. Her sweet voice was near hysterical. "Stop! I'm so frightened! Please!"

Tears ran down her face and she was trembling violently. Pure fear was in her eyes. Erik knew she was in absolute horror. But he could not stop himself.

"There is no need to be afraid, dear Christine," he chuckled. "If you'd only trust me..."

Christine let tears flow freely. She cried and tried her best to keep her mind collected. He had not laid a hand on her, and she was weeping like an infant. She was pathetic and she knew it. She sniffed a few times and tried to blink away the tears. But he only continued to stare at her. Like a predator stares down its prey. Her stomach flipped and a new round of tears threatened to pour from her eyes.

_If you'd only trust me..._

She had said those very words to him in the tunnels after he had been terrified that she would remove his mask. Now she knew how he felt. She swallowed her fear enough to speak.

"I trust you, Erik." she whispered.

Erik felt a smile tug at his lips as he heard those words. A low chuckle built in his chest and came up to his throat as he bent over Christine's still shaking body and kissed her face where the tears had been. He kissed away all the teardrops that had collected on her face, then used his thumbs to wipe away the tear streaks. She flinched at his touch and he stroked her hair and face with the tips of his fingers to try and calm her.

"There is no need to fear your Erik, Christine," he said sweetly. "Erik would never let anything bad happen to you."

Christine had been making an effort to calm herself. It had been working until he had started speaking in third person. It had caused her to freeze, making her incapable of movement. Something was wrong. Erik would never to this to her if he realised how incredibly scared she really was. But evidently, Erik was not in his right mind. She remembered his headache the previous day. He said it had been a slight headache. Could that be a contributor to his behavior now? She gasped as she felt the tips of his fingers on neck, just below her ear.

Christine wondered if it would be wise to trust him in his state.

_No! No! No! Stop this, Erik! Look at Christine! Stop!_

Erik had been shoving the annoying thoughts away while he admired Christine, but he figured his thoughts were usually correct, so he raised up a bit to get a better look at her. The blood drained from his face as he saw what he had caused. Christine had tearstains down her cheeks and all the color had left her face. She was pressed against the arm of teh sofa. She was trapped. He was trapping her. Her eyes were locked on him and it was as though she was afraid to look away. She was afraid, and that was the end of it. The only move she made was the constant shaking that was quite visible to Erik. He beheld his hand, which was stroking the soft skin of her neck.

Erik shook his head and tore his hand away from Christine. He all but jumped off the sofa, tripping over his own feet and stumbling back a few feet. Upon regaining his balance he looked up at Christine. She had moved into a sitting position on the sofa, her eyes showing concern, but also wariness.

"Erik?" she inquired hesitantly. "Are..."

"Oh Christine!" Erik nearly sobbed, hysterical. "Tell me I did not hurt you! Tell me you are unharmed! Please, Christine! Tell me you are alright!"

"Erik you did not hurt me! I am fine!" She stood from the sofa and moved toward Erik.

Erik stepped back a few more feet to distance himself from Christine stopped coming toward him.

"Please forgive me, Christine," Erik stuttered. "I do not know what I was thinking. I did not mean to do it! Please beleive me!"

"Erik I _do_ beleive you," Christine said gently, all the wariness gone from her eyes. "What happened?"

"I do not know," Erik shook his head, looking down at his trembling hands. "You were so beautiful when you were sleeping...I could hardly resist the urge to touch you. But I did! I would never touch you when you were unable to defend yourself! But when you woke up...it was as though I lost all self control. Oh Christine! I never meant to do this to you! I will never touch you again if you will only forgive me! Thank God I did not hurt you...Oh Christine..."

Erik tried to support himself by holding onto one of his chairs, but his attempt was unsuccessful. He fell to his knees on the floor and covered his face as he wept. He had practically attacked Christine. She could never forgive him for that. She had trusted him, and for what? None of it mattered anymore. She was going to leave and he was going to be alone again. The thought of it wasfor him. But he had brought it upon himself. It was his own fault. Nobody to blame but himself.

Christine watched as Erik crumpled onto the floor and began to sob. She did not know what had happened just then, but she knew that it would never happen again. Erik would not allow himself to lose control again. She moved to his side and sat on the floor beside him. She placed a hand on his shoulder, but he flinched away from her touch. She refused to give up and instead began rubbing his back. He continued to cry, but made an effort to calm down. Once he had stopped, Christine took his hand in both of hers and set it in her lap. She looked up to try and meet his eyes but he had turned his head away from her. She reached up and cupped his cheek, turning his head so she could see his face and eyes.

Christine immediately searched his eyes. She saw multiple feelings; shame, sadness, but mostly his eyes were pleading with her.

"Erik," Christine started, running her hand through his sparse hair. "You did _not_ hurt me. I was only frightened. I love you. There is nothing you can do to change that."

With that, she pulled him in for a kiss. At first Erik was reluctant to react, but after a moment when he was more secure he relaxed and it was only natural to respond. Christine smiled into his mouth and ran her tounge over his bottom lip.

The two kissed, Erik trying to earn and forgiveness and Christine trying to assure him that it was given.

Christine enjoyed the sensation of the kiss, but it was darkened by the fact that she knew there was something wrong with the man she loved. She vowed to care for him and keep him safe from everything he may have to face, whether it be the world or a cold. She loved him and she would not let anything or anyone take him from her. She loved him.

Erik was hers. To have and to hold. For richer or poorer. I sickness and in health. Till death did they part.

Yes, she loved him.

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**Thank you all for reading! Merry Christmas to you all, and I am sorry the update is so short. Please review! Once again Merry Christmas!**


	14. Happiness

**Oh look! A month hasn't passed and she's updated again! Okay, before anyone gets too excited, I'd like to let you know that this chapter doesn't exactly meet my standards either. But in my defense, I've been having a very hectic week, so if the chapter seems too busy, I'm sorry. I do most of my writing between 12 and 4 am so...its sort of insane. This will not happen once school is back in session. I get a haircut tomorrow! This may sound odd but getting my haircut always gives me inspiration! So do reviews! Haha, anyhow I hope the chapter is okay and review if you get the chance!**

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Erik avoided Christine as best he could after she had kissed him. He needed to protect her, and the best way to do that was to keep himself far away from her. If she was in the kitchen, he was in the living area. If she was in the living area, he was in his bedroom. They were seldom in the same room together for more than a few moments at a time. He hated not being beside Christine, caring for her and loving her like a real man would do. But he also hated the monster he was for acting the way he had. He needed to keep her safe above all else, and if this is what it took, then so be it.

She had claimed to love him no matter what he did. He wanted to beleive that. He wanted to trust her. But what if it happened again? He shuddered at the mere thought of it. He looekd down at his hands. The hands that had the potential to kill her. He shook his head. No. That would not happen again. He would cut off his hands before he put her in danger again. Something had to be wrong with him to do something like that. Maybe he had finally lost his sanity. That would explain his behavior. But it would not explain the headaches and the shakiness he had started to experience. Perhaps he was ill. No matter. He would not allow Christine to find out, and he would make himself well had been able to care for himself whenever he was sick before. Now was no different. His priority at the moment, however, was to stay away from Christine. His health would come later.

Christine's heart ached for Erik. She knew he had been avoiding her. She wanted to help him get through what he was experiencing, but her better instincts told her to let him handle it in his own way. She tried not to move around the house too often, for he would leave if they were ever in the same room. She would watch him as he stood alone in the kitchen, his back turned to her. She knew that he was thinking. What he was thinking o_f_ she could only guess, but she didn't think they were positive thoughts.

This was all her fault. She was too idiotic to realise that Erik may have been tempted by her. Had she understood that, she would not have put him in that position. She seemed to _never_ think when it came to Erik's benefit. He likely blamed himself for what had happened, but there was blame to share. She would have to change her habits if she and Erik were going to live in the same house. She did not know what she was going to do to make things easier for Erik, but she would find a way.

Christine saw Erik cross the room, his face cast down. He breifly glanced at her, but his eyes went back to the floor too quickly for Christine's liking. He went to the door of his bedroom and put his hand on the knob.

"Erik, wait," Christine stopped him.

Erik tensed immediately. Should he turn around? Should he just ignore her and go into his room? Would she just follow him if he did?

"Yes?" he answered her, but did not turn around. His hand was still on the doorknob.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked timidly.

Erik sighed and turned the knob, pushing the door in.

"Erik, please," she tried again. He turned his head to look at her from the corners of his eyes. "I just want to spend time with you..."

Erik looked at his feet. Surely he could control himself for a cup of tea. He took a deep breath and shut the door.

Christine stood as soon as Erik shut the door. He turned around but came no further. She blushed, embarassed, and went into the kitchen. She found all she would need to make the tea and put the water on. She tried to keep busy, but she was not sure how well she was doing when all she wanted to do was look back and see if Erik was still there. She hoped he had not left. She had taken a risk by asking him to have tea with her. He had not actually said he would, but she hoped he was going to. The water came to a boil and the teapot let out a shrill whistle. Christine took a small towell and picked up the pot, taking it off of the heat. She put the water in a more decorative pot and set it on the tray, on which she had placed two teacups. She placed the teabags in the cups and picked up the tray, carrying it into the living area.

She placed the tray on the coffee table and took her seat on the sofa. Erik was still there, but he was seated in his chair across from her. She was glad he had chosen to stay, but disappointed that he had not taken his new place on the sofa. She felt rather stupid for thinking he would sit there after what had happened so recently. She stopped her train of thought so she could fix the tea.

Erik observed Christine as she poured their tea. She seemed frustrated about something, but he could not think of what could be frustrating her. He had agreed to having tea with her. It had been her own suggestion, so that could not be the issue. She fixed his tea just the way he liked it and passed him his cup on a small saucer. He sipped at it, his eyes never leaving Christine. She stared into her cup, cradling it with both hands.

"Christine?" he inquired.

"Yes?" she looked up quickly, her eyes alert and hopeful.

"You seem...withdrawn," Erik struggled to find an appropriate word. "Is everything alright?"

"Excuse me?" Christine blinked.

"You seem withdrawn," Erik started again. "Are you feeling alright?"

"_I _am withdrawn?" Christine returned her cup to the table forcefully. "_I _am withdrawn, when you are the one who has been sulking around our house avoiding me like the plauge?! And no, I'm not alright! The man that I love wont come within a five foot radius of me!"

"You mean _my_ house..." Erik mumbled under his breath.

Christine heard him.

"What?" she was still bewildered, but that remark had stung her. She did not even know what else to say.

"I..." Erik realised his stupidity. He averted his eyes and sipped at his tea.

Erik felt the cup being knocked out of his hand. He heard the cup hit the ground and the sound of liquid spilling out onto the floor. He looked up and saw Christine standing over him. Her hands clenched into fist at her sides. Tears were brewing in her eyes and she was breathing heavily. Erik cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, folding his hands in his lap and making a study of them.

"Look at me!" she sobbed, falling to her knees and looking up at him. "Just look at me, Erik! Please! All I want is for you to acknowledge that I _exist!_ A pat on the head, a smile, a handshake, anything! Please!"

Erik's eyes had been riveted to Christine for her entire plea. He smiled, stroked her hair with one hand and held out the other in the indication that he wanted to shake her hand. She smiled and let out a choked laugh, then sniffed. She took Erik's hand and shook it weakly. She made to let go of his hand, but Erik held on. Standing, he pulled Christine to her feet and embraced her. She relaxed and let him hold her.

"I apologize for my rude comment about _our_ house," he said in a low, soothing voice as he shifted from one foot to the other, rocking her back and forth. "I am also sorry

for neglecting to take care of you."

"I know," she breathed into his chest. "I can hardly stand it when you are so miserable. I wanted to help...but you would not let me...I hate seeing you so upset...I did not know what to do...I just..."

"Hush, my love," Erik murmered, hearing her start to cry. "The fault is all mine. I simply thought that I could prevent myself from harming you by keeping myself away. I had no idea of the pain that my neglect would cause you."

"I love you so much, Erik," Christine's voice was muffled by Erik's shirt. "I never want you to feel like you need to stay away from me. If you feel that way, please tell me. I can try to help."

"I could have killed you," Erik mumbled, closing his eyes to keep his head clear. "I would never be able to forgive myself if that were to happen..."

"Erik," She looked up at him. "You barely touched me."

"That is not what I meant," Erik sighed, opening his eyes and looking down at Christine's upturned face. "I had no control over my actions. I do not know what made me realise what I was doing. I am lucky you are still here..."

"Erik," Christine said softly. "I am not going anywhere. The important thing is, you did what most men would not have. You stopped yourself. I was at your mercy and you chose to do the right thing. That is one of the many reasons why I love you. You know the right thing to do, and you choose to do it. I know that you will make mistakes, and so will I. There is _nothing_ that will make me stop loving you."

"How can you be so certain, Christine?" Erik looked into her eyes, searching for answers and truth. "How do you know?"

Christine sighed and nuzzled her face into Erik's chest, wrapping her arms around his middle.

"Did you stop loving me when I kissed Raoul on the roof?" Christine asked.

Erik growled and tightened his grip on Christine at the mention of the Viscount. He had been following them since he had learned of their "engagement". He had heard the conversation about him. He had seen them kiss. He had seen his ring fall off her finger as her hands had become entangled in the boy's hair. He remembered the feeling well. It was as though his very soul had been torn apart. He had felt like he was incapable of breathing. Like life itself had been stolen from him. But had he stopped loving her, even for a moment?

"No," he answered in a shuddering breath.

"Did you stop loving me when I asked you to give me away to Raoul at the wedding?" she continued questioning him.

He growled again and pressed Christine to his body. His vision was hazy for a moment as he recalled that hellish night. He remembered feeling like he was falling from a great height, laughing to fight off his tears, the tears coming anyway. He remembered thinking her cruel for asking him for such a thing. He also remembered saying yes. He had said yes because of his love for her.

"No," he answered once again.

"See?" Christine looked up at him again. "Even though I did those horrid, terrible things to you, you did not stop loving me. Even though you lost control, I still love you."

Erik ran his fingers through Christine's golden hair.

"Does that make any sense?" Christine tilted her head.

"It makes perfect sense," he breathed, bending down to lightly kiss her forehead. She smiled, then buried her face in his shirt front once more.

They stood that way for a moment, locked in the safety of one another's embrace. However, the moment was cut short when Erik swayed, nearly falling. He caught himself, on the back of his chair and found his feet. He shook his head and blinked a few times.

"Erik!" Christine screamed, cupping his face with her hands. "Are you alright?! What happened?!"

Erik tried to collect himself while Christine checked him all over for God only knew what. He had gotten very dizzy and lost his balance. Nothing more. It could have happened to anyone.

He heard Christine gasp and looked down at her. She was kneeling on the ground and had lifted his pant leg and was gaping at his ankle. Why the hell was she looking at his ankle? Did his ankle affect his balance? Why was she so fascinated by his ankle at all?

"Christine?" he cocked his head.

"Erik...what happened?" her voice shook and her face was pale as she let go of his pant leg.

Damn it all! He had been trying to keep the cut on his ankle to himself!

"It is merely a scratch, Christine," he knelt down in front of her.

"Merely a..." Christine seemed horrified that he had used such a term to describe the cut on his ankle. "Erik, look at it!"

"Alright," He lifted the bottom of his pant leg. Oh. It was no wonder Christine had been so shocked. The cut had gotten infected. Who knew what had cut him, but it had likely been covered in bacteria.

"Christine, this is nothing I have not dealt with before," he assured her, stroking her cheek.

"Does it always make you so ill?" Christine asked innocently.

Erik blinked. Christine had no idea what she had just implied. Perhaps the cut was what had caused all the headaches, the attack, everything!

"Christine! I can solve everything!" he cried out in triumph. He pulled her to his chest and laughed.

Christine was horribly confused. She did not recall what had led her to examine his ankle, but she had, and what she had seen was horrifying. There was a deep gash in Erik's ankle, surrounded by angry red streaks. She had been concerned immediately, near tears, worried for him. He had looked at it himself upon her request. He had seemed surprised, but not shocked. She was especiallt confused when he clasped her to his chest and started to laugh. It was not a frightening laugh, it had a sweet and pure quality to it. His happiness spread to her, and she was soon laughing into his chest with him.

Christine looked up to see his truly happy expression. She smiled at him through her laughter and before she knew it his lips were on hers and he was kissing her. He was not aggressive in the least. He explored her mouth playfully, laughter still coming up from his throat. She kissed him back, laughing as well. Christine tried to keep a light and happy mentality, but she was finding it difficult. His breath was mingling with hers, and she found her laughter turning to sighs. Her heart rate was increasing and she felt her head begin spin.

Erik noticed the change. He had kissed her. He had not lost control. He had not lost his mind. He had simply kissed her. He was happy, and he wanted to share his happiness with her. She had not resisted. He had ventured out and initiated something. He relaxed and tried to let things happen naturally. He was simply enjoying himself, and Christine seemed to be enjoying it as well. She was laughing with him as they kissed. For a while. Then her laughter changed into soft sighs. Her fingers splayed out on his chest and she pressed further into his mouth.

He was at first reluctant to respond. He did not know what it could lead to. But he calmed himself. He was in control. He knew his limits. He was perfectly sane. He would stop if it became too much. He went back to trusting his instincts. He wound one arm around her and buried his hand in her hair while he continued to discover the wonder that was her mouth.

Christine nearly purred as Erik pulled her closer. He was incredible. It seemed like he knew exactly what to do. She wanted more of him, and she looped her arms around his neck. She nibbled at his lip, then ran her tongue over it. He pulled back, chuckling, and rubbed her back and head. Christine wanted nothing of it. She forced his mouth open with her tongue and lips and kissed him passionately. Erik did not return the enthusiasm, but held back. He was teasing her!

Erik smiled into Christine's lips as she realised he was toying with her. He had deliberately refused to return the passion in her kiss, but instead kept his explorations playful and sweet. That was not the reaction she had been hoping for. She released her hold on his neck, and he in return unwound his arms from around her and started to pull back from the kiss. Christine responded in an almost panicky fashion, hooking her arms under his and pulling him back.

"No," Christine breathed into Erik's mouth as she tried to make him feel how she was feeling. She squeezed him tightly to her. She felt the muscles in her arms begin to quiver and ache from how tightly she was holding him. She ignored it. She _needed_ to make him respond to her. She kissed him and moaned into his mouth, always holding him tightly. Still, nothing changed.

_No!_ she thought as she all but collapsed into his chest, her arms hanging limply at her sides as she panted.

Erik smirked as he patted the back of Christine's head. He chuckled at her as she rested against his chest. She made a weak attempt at slapping his chest. She had exhausted herself. She could not have hurt him even if she actually had a reason to.

Erik lifted her with ease and laid her out on the sofa, kissing her on the forehead and smoothing her hair before he excused himself to his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

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**Well there it is. Let me know what you think!**


	15. The Storm

**I'm sorry for these past few chapters. I feel the need to write, but I've been feeling really down lately. So I'm trying to keep the mood lighter and goofy. I would also like to dedicate this chapter to my big brother, Albert. Today is his birthday. I expect you all to go buy party hats. Or rummage around in old drawers and find one. Or make one out of construction paper. Be creative or something. But it really is his birthday, so there will be partying among my readers. I wont join you though. I partied earlier and killed my knees. Anyhow. Happy Birthday Albert! **

**(And happy frikking new year for those of you who care, I don't really get the point. Maybe you could review and TELL me the point! :D)**

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Christine read a book from Erik's library. Well, she did not exactly _read _the book. She pretended to be interested in the content of the book so she would not have to interact with Erik. She would glance at him out of the corner of his eyes, he was reading his own book in his chair across from the sofa, then blush a bright red and turn back to her book. She had no idea what the book was about. She did not care. All she was interested in at the moment was the man sitting across from her, his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at his ankles. He was holding his book with one hand and tapping the arm of his chair rythmically with the index finger of the other.

"Can I help you, my dear?" Erik quriked an eyebrow at her.

"I..." Christine started, embarassed that she had been caught staring. "No, thank you."

Erik supressed a chuckle as Christine turned scarlet and turned back to the book. She was acting as though the book was the most fascinating thing she had ever laid eyes on. Acting. He knew there was very little that was even remotely interesting about plantlife in France. He could tell she had not even read the title of the book. He was curious to see what she intended to do, for she was clearly not reading. He would catch her glancing at him every so often, and he would simply look at his book, his eyes skimming over the words. It was only when she had been obviously staring at him that he said something.

Erik closed his book and uncrossed his ankles, preparing to return the book to its proper place on his bookshelf. Christine looked up at him as he stood.

"Yes, Christine?" Erik looked back at her.

"Where are you going?" she asked timidly.

"I am going to put my book away," he answered. "Would you like me to take yours as well?"

She nodded and uncurled her legs from beneath her so she could stand. She came to him and held out the book for him to take. He gently removed the book from her hand and turned to his bedroom. He took his time finding where the books belonged on his organized shelf. It was a large shelf with many levels. He knew exactly where the place of each of the books was. However, he wanted to see how Christine would react to him stepping away from her for a period of time.

Erik returned to the living area to find Christine sitting back on the sofa. She sat up a little as he came into her line of vision. He started moving toward his chair, but Christine cleared her throat.

"You must not do that, Christine," Erik reprimanded her. "It will ruin your voice."

"You must not sit in that chair, Erik," she mocked him, adopting his tone of voice. "It will ruin our relationship."

"Is that so?" Erik cocked his head and smirked.

"It is indeed," she nodded once, gesturing to the seat beside her on the sofa.

"Well, let us not ruin anything," he took the proffered seat.

"Hmmm," she responded, cuddling into him. "Are you sure you can take care of your ankle? We can get a doctor..."

"No," he cut her off.

"If you are sure," she sighed.

"I am _perfectly _sure," he nodded, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and kissing the top of her head. "As I told you before, I have dealt with much worse than an infected cut."

"How awful," Christine shuddered against him.

"We will not speak of it," Erik rubbed her upper arm.

"May we go out today, Erik?" Christine asked, hoping the direct approach might be effective.

"I'm afraid not Christine," he sighed.

"Why not?" Erik's heart broke at the sadness in her voice.

"Regretably, it is raining today," he replied, letting her know it was not only because of his desire to stay away from the poulation. Though that was certainly part of it. "Aside from that, it is nearly dark out."

"Oh well, " she shrugged. "A walk would have been nice, but I am sure I will live."

"I certainly hope so," Erik laughed. "Did you enjoy your book?"

"My book?" she pretended to have no clue.

"Indeed," he continued. "You seemed to be very intrigued."

"Oh..." she struggled to remember what the book was about. "Yes."

"Really?" Christine detected mischeif in his voice. "I never found information on plantlife very interesting."

Christine blushed again and turned her face into Erik's side to hide it from him.

"Why were you acting interested in that book?" Erik asked in a low voice, nuzzling his face in her hair.

"I..." Christine started, distracted by his extra attentions. "I do not remember."

"Is that so?" he mumbled, absently tracing circles on her arm and kissing the top of her head.

"Um..." Christine could not form coherent words.

"Um?" Erik laughed into her hair. "Is that all you have to say?"

"I..." Christine made an effort not to say 'um' again. "I...do not know."

"I see," Erik closed his eyes and continued running his index finger along her arm.

Christine was aware of Erik's finger tracing paterns all over her arm and his breathing rustling her hair. She leaned into him more. She noticed that he had a very unique smell. It was like new parchment, mint, and spices. She opened her mouth slightly and inhaled.

"You smell nice," Christine remarked.

"Yes," Erik chuckled. "It is good not to stink."

Christine laughed and slipped her arms around Erik's waist. She heard the rumble of thunder and the crack of lightning above her, and she pressed closer to Erik.

"Does that scare you?" Erik asked as he stopped tracing her arm to hold her.

"Yes," she answered.

"The heavens get angry at times too, you know," Erik stated. "I think the sky is the most _human_ part of nature."

"It does not frighten you at all?" Christine asked like a child.

"Not in the least," He smiled down at her. "I learned not to let it frighten me."

"How?" she looked up at him with that tilt of her head and that twinkle in her eye.

Erik tilted her head up with a finger under her chin, then bent down to press a soft kiss to her lips. She tried to maintain the contact with him as he pulled back, but he was too tall for her.

"Will you come with me to the roof?" he asked her as he stood from the sofa, offering his hand.

"I..." Christine looked at his hand warily.

"Have it your way," Erik dismissed her with a flourish of his hand. "I am going, regardless of having your company."

Erik turned and strolled toward his bedroom to fetch his coat and cloak. He noticed his mask on the floor by his piano. He picked it up and tied it to his face. He located his hat, as well as his coat and cloak, and proceeded to prepare to go out onto the roof. After he had secured his cloak, he placed the hat on his head and exited his room.

He was met by Christine, who had retreived her own cloak from the Louis Phillipe room. She looked nervous and scared, but she also seemed determined to go with him.

Erik held out his hand and she took it. He led her out of the house and into the boat, letting go of her hand so he could row across the lake.

Christine watched as Erik rowed across the lake, his eyes never leaving her. She hated storms. She had no clue how Erik liked them. She also hated the thought of being in the house while Erik was on the roof. She wanted to be by his side. She hated having him so near and not being able to curl up in his lap. She felt drawn to him, like he held a peice of her soul. Was this what happened when you kissed a person passionately? Was it because he had not returned the kiss with the same passion? She tried to answer these questions and the many others in her head, but failed. The only thing she knew was that it caused her near physical pain to think that Erik did not return her feelings for him. If he had felt this way about her through all of the insanity that had been going on for the past months, she knew why he had been desperate for her to love him.

She resisted the urge to move closer to him in the boat, not wanting to throw off the balance and send them into the water. At first, the thought of tipping the boat had seemed appealing. She and Erik swimming and splashing and laughing together. However, she was not sure Erik would like falling out of the gondola, so she dismissed the idea.

Erik docked the boat and stepped onto the shore. He helped Christine out of the boat and made sure she was planted firmly on the ground. He then took her hand and led her into one of the dark corridors that led up into the Palais Garnier. She stayed close to him, no doubt frightened by the storm raging above and the darkness of the corridor. He knew this was most likely a horrifying experience for her, and he almost regretted her coming along. Going to the roof alone had been a bluff to convince her to join him. He smiled as she squeezed his hand. He led her on.

Christine kept as close to Erik as she could without tripping him. It annoyed her that she could not see him. The only thing that reminded her of his presence was his hand holding hers. She squeezed it a little tighter to make sure. The secret passage seemed much less frightening when Erik was there to guide her through them. She could not imagine navigating them on her own. She shook off these thoughts. She would never need to navigate these passages alone. She had Erik to lead her through them. Her throat clenched at the thought of not having him.

Christine knew they were in the body of the Opera House. Barely noticible sounds came to her ear; light snoring, footsteps, and the like. Her heart raced. They were that much closer to the roof. She suppressed a shudder. She was being a child. Erik was there. She had chosen to go with him. He would not take her out into this weather if it would hurt her. She trusted him.

Erik focused on taking the quickest route to the roof. He did not want to prolong Christine's anxiety. The faster he showed her there was nothing to fear from the storm, the better off she would be. He knew she was afraid. He was not very familiar with the feeling. He did not value his life enough to fear many things. He feared losing Christine. He feared leaving Christine alone. Those were the main things he feared. He did not fear silly things such as thunderstorms. He recalled fearing them as a child, but that seemed like centuries ago. He had learned that he could relate to the storms, and the sky in general. They had served as inspiration for much of his music. Then Christine had come into his life. The sky could not compare to her.

Christine felt Erik stop moving, and she halted with him.

"Are you sure you wish to do this, Christine?" she heard Erik's voice in the darkness. "We can return to our home, if it is what you would like."

"I am sure, Erik," she answered, hoping her fear was not too evident in her voice.

"Alright then," she heard Erik's voice and felt his hand around her own.

A cool, damp draft hit them both as Erik opened the door out to the roof.

Erik gently led Christine out into the pouring rain. She blinked several times, scrunching her nose up as the drops of water hit her face. He felt his mask and clothing being soaked. Thunder rolled in the distance, as though it was welcoming them. Erik wondered if Christine minded getting wet. Surely she would have said something if she was opposed. Oh well. It was a bit late, for she was likely drenched to the bone at the rate the water was falling now.

Christine shivered. The water was cold even if the air was a mild temperature. The rain was coming down hard and fast, and there was the constant sound of thunder rumbling in the distance. A flash of lightning lit up the city for a moment before it was shrouded in darkness once more. She turned into Erik's ready embrace and allowed him to protect her from the storm. He was steady and strong as he held her. She looked up to try and meet his eyes, but found his face slightly upturned and his eyes closed. He was trying to enjoy the rain. She frowned at the mask on his face. It was keeping him from experiencing the storm as he truly wished to do.

She reached up with one hand and grasped the edge of the mask. Erik's eyes opened and his face turned down to look at her. His eyes held no anger, only curiosity. She reached behind his head and unfastened the ties that kept the mask secured to his face. She then lifted the mask from his face and let it drop to the top of the roof. Erik smiled and leaned down to kiss her on the head before closing his eyes once more and letting the rain wet his face.

Erik inhaled deeply. His Christine knew him so well. He had never felt the rain on his face before. He had washed his face with water. He did so regularly. This was different. The rain was fresh and cool against the skin of his face. She had removed the mask so he could feel the rain. His hat had fallen off when she had removed his mask, so his whole head was exposed. It felt glorious.

Christine admired Erik. He was so calm and relaxed. He was truly happy. She felt her heart ache for him again. He had been denied happiness for his whole life. She had denied him happiness. She hated herself for keeping that away from him. Now, with his face turned up to the rain, he looked like an angel. Her angel. Her Angel of Music. Only he wasn't. He was a man. He was a man that she loved with her whole heart.

Erik would have been fully at peace if it were not for a strange sensation that tugged at the edges of his heart. He was neglecting Christine! He looked down at her to see her looking up at him. She smiled and tilted her head at him. Her look. _His_ look. He breifly wondered what it would be like to kiss her in the rain...

Christine stared up into Erik's eyes. They were glowing with a soft, warm light. She debated on whether his gold eyes were closer to brown or green, but then decided that they deserved their own classification. They were simply and wonderfully gold. She felt a desire to have his lips on her own while the rain poured around and over them. She shuddered as the feeling swept over her. Erik pulled her in tighter to him, but that did not null the new need.

Erik watched a dark edge creep into Christine's perfect blue eyes as he pulled her in. The tremor he had detected had obviously not been from the cold. He noticed her tongue quickly pass over her lips to wet them. He felt the darkness enter his own eyes as she made her desires known to him. He slowly bent down to Christine's height and placed his closed lips over her slightly parted ones.

Christine's eyes closed as she felt Erik's lips touch hers. She wanted him to force her lips further open and make her respond to him as he ravaged her mouth. She wanted him to kiss her with passion as she had kissed him. It took all her effort not to slide her tongue over his lips. She wanted for him to make the first move this time. She simply lacked the willpower to let him.

Erik felt her shiver again and moved his lips off of her mouth. She let out a soft whimper. He smirked. He found an odd sort of pleasure in tormenting her. He knew deep down it was a horrible thing to do, but it was not harming her. He wanted her as well. They could both handle a bit of teasing.

Christine gasped as she felt Erik's lips on her jawline. He kissed her in a line all the way to the hollow beneath her ear. She found it difficult to breathe as his tongue drew tiny circles on the sensitive skin. Her heart was pounding against her chest to the point that it was nearly painful. One of his arms was wound around her waist, supporting her while the hand of the other arm cupped the back of her head.

All the while, the rain beat into them and lightning flashed as thunder roared.

Christine gathered handfulls of Erik's cloak as he kissed her back along her jaw and down to the base of her other ear so as not to neglect it. He was driving her insane. She wanted his tongue in her mouth, not beneath her ear. At the same time, she was enjoying the feeling of him kissing her there. She felt him smile against her skin, and she wanted to demand that he kiss her _correctly_. She gasped again as she felt him move to kiss down to the slight bulge in the front of her neck. She was aware of him chuckling into her by the vibrations that spread along her skin. She shuddered again and clutched at him as he devoured her throat.

Erik enjoyed himself as he kissed Christine's neck just as he would have kissed her mouth. His tongue ran over her skin as his lips massaged the same area. He occasionally grazed her flesh with his teeth or nibbled at her skin. She was shaking, and sometimes gasping or whimpering when he changed his method. He could feel her blood pulsing through her neck at a rapid pace. He pulled away when he thought her heart might burst from pumping blood so quickly. He was immediately met with Christine's frenzied eyes. He knew his eyes held the same fire, but his face betrayed no sign of his desire. Christine wore an expression that clearly expressed ehat she wanted.

"Erik..." Christine's voice shook.

"Yes?" Erik replied, his own voice steady.

"Please..." the corners of her lips twitched.

"Please...what?" Erik smirked down at her.

"Kiss me! Please, Erik!" she begged him, losing any of the sanity she may have retained.

"What exactly have I been doing?" Erik laughed at her.

"Stop torturing me, Erik!" he heard a hint of hysteria in her voice. "Please!"

"If you insist," Erik growled as he attacked her mouth.

Christine moaned into Erik's mouth as he kissed her with the passion she had been aching for. She returned every ounce of it. She felt him sigh into her mouth and she sighed into his. His hands were clamped down on her waist, holding her perfectly close to him. Her hands were on the back of his neck, making sure he could not pull away. There was fire in this kiss. He was burning her. _Branding_ her. She never wanted him to stop.

The storm raged on into the morning.

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**Get a room! Gosh! Ha ha, please review! I'm obviously not above begging! On my frikking knees here!**


	16. Truly

"Erik?" Christine asked, staring into the fire that Erik had lit to dry their soaked clothes.

"Yes?" Erik answered, rubbing her shoulder.

"Will you marry me?" she asked, closing her eyes and relaxing into him.

"Why?" Erik's response surprised Christine.

"Well," she started, sitting back to look at him. "When two people love each other, they get married."

"That seems pointless," he scoffed, crossing his arms.

"How so?" Christine was curious. Erik may have a point.

"If two people love each other truly, they shouldn't be forced to bend to the laws of society," he started, annoyance evident in his voice and his eyes. "A ceremony, a dress, a cake, bah! If they love each other truly, they should not be expected to go through these petty rituals in order to be accepted by society."

"Oh," she bilnked. He _did_ have a point. "I've never thought of it that way."

Erik grunted and uncrossed his arms, covering Christine's hand.

"I _do_ love you truly, you know," Christine poked him in his ribs.

"Then this wedding can be avoided?" Erik gently poked her back. "I have had my fair share of weddings, thank you."

"I suppose it can be," she nodded.

"Excellent," Erik smiled and leaned his head back onto the sofa.

"Can we exchange promises, then?" Christine suggested, wanting to make it official, if only between the two of them.

Erik opened one eye and looked her over,

"Will it appease you?" he asked, keeping his one open eye on her.

"Yes, it would," she smirked and kissed him on the cheek.

"Fine then," Erik adjusted himself on the sofa so he was facing Christine.

"You go first," Christine nodded at him, a light beaming in her eyes.

Erik swallowed and cleared his throat before beginning.

"Christine," he started unsurely. "I promise to always love you. I promise to never leave you. I promise to take care of you always. I promise I will do my best to be the man you deserve."

"Erik," she began. "I promise to always love you. I promise to never leave you. I promise to take care of you always. I promise I will do my best to be the woman you deserve."

"Is that not _exactly _what I promised _you_?" Erik raised an eyebrow.

"As a matter of fact," she kissed him on his cheek again. "It is. They were excellent promises."

"Thank you," Erik blinked.

"Well, we are two people who love each other truly!" Christine exclaimed happily.

"Yes indeed," Erik nodded.

Christine cuddled into him once more, content.

"Christine?" Erik tapped his finger on the armrest of the sofa.

"Yes, love?" she answered.

"Are we forgetting something?" he asked, hoping she would bring it up.

"Well," she sighed. "Since we are the creators of our union, I would think we would know if we forgot something."

"Quite true..." Erik frowned. She was going to make him say it.

"What is you think we are forgetting?" she asked.

"Well, I think we should kiss," Erik said frankly, feeling the blood rush to his face.

"Erik!" she gasped mockingly. "I thought we were not going to _bend to the laws of society_!"

"This," Erik growled, grasping the back of her neck to pull her face within an inch of his own. "Is the _one_ law of society I will abide by!"

**~The End~**

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**Seriously, the end. Go home. No bloopers in the credits like in Toy Story 2. **


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